Nuclear Phantasy
by Magikoopa981
Summary: No one expected the games to end like this. The Mushroom Kingdom's invention of the atomic bomb forced Bowser to stop kidnapping Peach, but unleashed a new cold war where both sides had the power to destroy the other in an instant. In the midst of intricate deterrence, a plot unfolds to make the war hot... Starring: Mario, Peach, Luigi, Bowser, Lemmy, Wendy, and more.
1. 01: ADitL (Episode Ensemble 1)

Nuclear Phantasy

By Magikoopa981

 **Act One: Scattered Pieces**

Chapter One: A Day in the Life (Episode Ensemble 1)

Exactly three years after he had gone missing, Luigi was found wandering in the dark of a black forest.

He looked fine physically, and his eyes, though slightly dimmed, still held a glimmer of their charming old shine. It had to be remarked, however, that he had lost his mustache hair, that the hair on his head had been shaved down to practically baldness, and that his iconic green hat was gone.

He was also cradling a baby girl in his arms, an infant so intensely peaceful that the guards who found the former hero wandering through the woods both made sure to describe the quiet child in their reports.

 _The little girl's hair shines most wonderfully_ , One guard wrote. He was reprimanded by his supervisor, the captain of the guards, for the seemingly out of place comment. However, a comment of the other guard who found Luigi was even stranger.

 _The little baby opened her eyes and looked at me. I felt a floating sensation, and I landed back on the ground, either mentally or literally._

 _We escorted Master Luigi back to the Castle._

 _End of Report._

That was in fact the totality of the report, not even bothering to explain when or where Luigi was first spotted.

The responsible guard was nearly put on probation, until the supervisor saw the baby for himself the next day.

"Good Eldstar," Captain Toad's pipe fell slack in his mouth and nearly tumbled out, "That baby is blessed."

Most of the people who came into contact with the child went away with the same general feeling, but the effect seemed to fade away after a few days until the only thing of major interest regarding the quiet infant was its origins.

Although Mario was happy at first to discover his brother was alive, his feelings quickly transformed into shock and anger as Luigi refused to explain himself.

The question of where he had been for the last three years was always answered the very same way:

"I don't remember."

A tea bag of black substance drops into a cup of nearly boiling water.

"Maybe he's telling the truth, Mario."

Queen Peach could offer little else as she slipped back into the large royal bed, lower half pushing into the close comfort of the covers, watching her husband prowl angrily around the bedroom in his striped pajamas.

"I'm his brother."

Mario stopped and clutched the air, looking halfway at Peach. "I've known him my entire life. I can tell whether he's lying or not."

He resumed his pacing, back and forth, until Peach's patience failed her.

"Okay, so what?"

Mario stopped moving and stared at her again halfway. "What do you mean, 'So what'?"

"So what if he won't tell you, Mario?" Peach sighed. "He's his own person. He has his own life. So what if he came back with a little baby? Did we ask him permission for…?"

"Oh, don't even try to compare it!" Mario slammed a hand against the wall. "We thought he was DEAD!"

"Mario, for Eld's sake, lower your voice..."

"In the midst of all the chaos, the wars, the..." He swallowed and his voice dropped, "The bombs... He seemed like another casualty. Another casualty in the list. And now he just comes back, out of nowhere, acting like he doesn't owe us anything, no explanations, nothing..."

"I'm not saying it's all right, Mario," Peach slipped out of bed and drew up alongside him, holding his shoulders, "In a perfect world, Luigi wouldn't have vanished at all... and the world wouldn't be in the state it is now."

Mario turned his head so that he could see outside to the bedroom's balcony and the white moon, and have his Peach in the side of his right eye's vision.

"But even if things are not perfect, we can still be good." She squeezed his shoulders, "You'll forgive him this silence because he's your brother, won't you?"

Mario said nothing, but stared out at the moon.

"You'll forgive him because you love him, yes?"

"Of course," Mario finally replied, "It's just too much right now. With last night's news, and now Luigi suddenly back... and he doesn't know anything about what's been happening..."

His voice drew away as the sound of little feet pattered up outside the door—

—A sound that was conspicuously absent in the halls of Koopa Castle, home of King Bowser Koopa and two of his three remaining adult children, Lemmy and Wendy Koopa. It had been twelve years since Peach and Mario had gotten married, but rather perversely, only seven since Bowser had last kidnapped Peach. Since that time, however, the world had changed drastically, and Peach had never been in danger of being torn out of her home against her will. The disruption of the previous fourteen-year hot war (at various degrees of heat) between the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms seemed to create a number of new wrinkles in the world fabric, coming to a ghastly height four years after the end of Bowser's kidnappings when three different wars had erupted in quick succession.

One of these wars was the Koopa Kingdom's War of Succession. No longer able to focus on Mario and the Mushroom Kingdom as 'the enemy', it had come time for Bowser's royal children to turn on each other and finally answer the question of the throne. There could only be one new king after old papa was gone, after all.

"Like a game of chess, there were eight major pieces at play," The infamously biased historian Giboon wrote, "A war on one side, the bad side, with the pieces turned against each other."

Wars of Succession were generational traditions in the Koopa Kingdom. Because of the many concubines a Koopa King enjoyed, he was bound to have a large number of children. The oldest child was not necessarily the brightest or most capable, so centuries ago it was determined that having the children of the king fight for the right to rule was the most efficient way to determine the next ruler.

"It's completely barbaric," Giboon wrote in the uncensored first edition of his text, _The Nuclear Age: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Explosions_ , "Clearly, the Koopa Kings would have a more peaceful nation and prevent this kind of war altogether by simply ridding themselves of concubines and having as little sex as possible."

Ever since he had been born, Bowser Koopa Jr. had been the apple of his father's eye, the favorite son to succeed as king. The senior Bowser focused on training his son, and gave him sole access to technology clearly superior to that accessible by his siblings. The other children, besides perhaps Morton, clearly noticed the discrepancy.

Ludwig, the eldest, was perhaps also the smartest. He was quite capable at engineering, far surpassing any of his siblings besides Iggy, who even still struggled to keep up. Ludwig secretly studied the technology that Bowser Jr. was given lone access to, and secretly built his own that would counter-hack Junior's. Thus, when the time came, the War of Succession had officially begun, and the siblings were permitted to attack each other, Ludwig activated his machinery. Junior's versatile clown copter was promptly shut down and put at Ludwig's direct control.

Junior had just killed Morton in his own bedroom (the confused gray-shelled man-child had never had a chance to begin with), and in a flash found himself paralyzed, bolted down in his own clown copter by seat belts he had not even been aware of.

Junior never saw his killer, but he did get a close look at the saw blade that rose up from his own machine and beheaded him.

The elder King Bowser disappeared for the next two weeks of the war, and said very little besides for another whole year after returning. The plot to kill off his unwanted children had gone hopelessly awry. In any case, there was no ending the war— the Koopa Kingdom did need a successor.

Bowser only prayed that it would not be Ludwig, whom he had despised more than any of his children even before the slaying of his beloved successor. Ludwig had always been cold and calculating, probably incapable of feeling anything besides near-sexual ecstasy in the completion of his inventions and during personal successes. Perhaps he could be a good, even great, ruler, but he was an ugly individual, even in Bowser's eyes.

It would only take a few weeks more for Ludwig's own death to come about, however. His own focus on offing Junior had left his back open to a carefully planned surprise attack. The executor, fun-loving Lemmy, was perhaps the last person Ludwig expected.

A few years later, Lemmy was the honored heir to the Koopa throne when Luigi quietly made his return in the west. Almost no one in Bowser's domain cared, especially in the modern age where the power of individual men, even of the Mario Brothers, was like the bite of an ant.

It was perhaps only Wendy Koopa who took real notice of the old hero's return. For her, lost in a sea of books of spiritual significance, it was a sign.

She was not the only person in the land who believed the end of times was coming, but she was the most influential, not to mention most recognized. Since shortly after the beginning of the Succession War, Wendy had taken close refuge in religion, seeking for the reason of suffering of the world and a way to get closer to God. She read bits and pieces from every faith, but spoke aloud in terms of Starism, which she had grown up with.

"The power of Eldstar is absolute," She spoke at one of her gatherings, "But Eldstar has begun to turn away from us, from our sin."

She looked across the waves of the crowd and had a sudden vision of her late mother. Her eyes moistened, and she gripped the stand anew. "Eldstar loves us! It is a fact. But even greater than his love, in this wretched day and age, is his _disappointment_!"

Some people in the crowd moaned, arising like rumblings of thunder.

"Oh yes." Wendy's eyes narrowed, and she searched out towards the horizon for something. "We drink alcohol, and we fornicate profusely, and we no longer pray or go to the temple or..."

She paused. The crowd watched her breathlessly.

"But it is really what we do that is our greatest sin."

The words came to her.

"...We think we are Eldstar! We think we are _God_!"

The crowd moaned, more people this time.

Wendy's eyes crackled with lightning. "Oh yes! We turned away from Eldstar, from God, because we thought we no longer needed him! Because our little machines and our little science made us believe we could!"

The crowd trembled.

"You!" She suddenly bellowed, pointing straight at the center of the audience, near to the front of her podium.

"Me?" A little old lady goomba squeaked.

"You!" Wendy repeated. She leaned forward. "When was the last time you spoke to _God_?"

The little old lady gasped. "Why, I... I made my morning prayer, this, this morning..."

"This _morning_?" A look of horror struck Wendy's face. "Hours, and hours ago...? You've turned away from Eldstar for so long?"

The little old lady quivered in fright. "No, I..."

"You must live with Eldstar, you must live _in him_ , for every moment of every day. The moment you stop being with him, you have doomed yourself." Wendy looked up to the sky. "I breathe him, I eat of his flesh, I drinketh his blood..."

"Have you never read this?!" She suddenly screamed out.

The crowd fell into renewed hush.

Green swamped Wendy's vision and she felt a gentle peace fall over her.

"You think I am a visionary," She said, "You think I've seen things that others can't. Well, I'll tell you, I'm just a follower too. I am not a prophetess. I see Eldstar in my dreams sometime, but my example follows near another."

No one dared ask who. Most believed she was just speaking humbly.

"I'm no one," Wendy shook her head, her eyes beginning to glaze over, "I'm no one..."

She turned in place several times, like a dazed ballerina. Recognizing the signs, two followers rushed up to the front of the stage and caught Wendy as she fell.

"The power of the Spirit has exhausted her," Someone near whispered, "Praise be."

"Praise be." The crowd echoed.

"Save us." One voice said. A starving koopa mother, kneeling in the dirt among the depths of the crowd. She had lost her mind moments ago, and now dug into the dirt with a single feeble finger, deaf to the cry of the baby on her back.

With seven sides, the simple symbol was drawn: the image of the god that no one wanted to look at.

"Rocket." She gasped, and fell unconscious.

She and her baby were quickly taken to a nearby shelter,

"Rocket." Toadbert repeated elsewhere. "A fantasy rocket."

He moved towards the whiteboard and looked back towards Yoshi, "Do you mind if I...?"

"Go ahead."

As Yoshi watched with a troubled expression, Toadbert picked up a black marker and began to draw the symbol of the rocket, the missile- that image which had become ingrained into the psyche of virtually every person in the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms.

Toadbert then took a blue marker and added a large blue cloud around and over the rocket. He capped the marker and looked expectedly towards Yoshi.

Yoshi, standing up, leaned forward on his cane. "What is that? Steam?"

Toadbert grinned and looked back to the drawing. "You're on the right track. Think more... magical."

"Magic?" Yoshi shook his head. "Toadbert, I hardly know enough about science to talk about this stuff, I certainly don't know about magic."

"Well, it's not literally magic," Toadbert gestured dismissively, "Trying to predict magic's reaction to mechanical engineering is like trying to perfectly control the emission of gas."

He paused. "...Which is something of what we're doing here."

Yoshi waved his cane. "Just tell me."

"Okay, okay." Toadbert was clearly getting too excited to hold it in anyway. "Right. Well, as I'm sure you know, we haven't had a revolutionary upgrade in missile technology since Gadd passed away in 2000, right? He allowed us access to the world of nuclear engineering in the first place, and made steady advancements up until the design of his fifth nuclear weapon, codenamed the V5. Over these next seven years we've made hardly any progress...sure, we can make bigger and bigger booms, but..."

Toadbert rolled his eyes, "There's no real advancement to the _art_ of it."

"It does not need to be artistic," Yoshi cleared his throat, "It's not meant to be used at all. It only..."

"...needs to act as a proper deterrent. Yes, I know." Toadbert sighed. "But the Koopa Kingdom has been weirdly quiet since the end of their successionary war" He crossed his arms. "I'm not the only one who thinks they're developing something new over there."

"...So you're preparing a deterrent ahead of time." Yoshi said, not without a hint of irony. "A deterrent for the future deterrent. A big leap forward."

"Yes!" Toadbert shot up. "Now you're getting it. And now get this: Codename Rocket Phantasy."

"Sounds like a bad videogame."

"Ha!" Toadbert smirked and turned back to the whiteboard, "Maybe it is a little silly. I don't know, I might just name it again in the V series, once it's completed... ...Uh..."

He looked around, then turned back to Yoshi again. "Do you have purple?"

"No."

"...Oh." Toadbert frowned. "Okay, well..."

He picked red and began to draw several curly lines stemming out from the rocket's cloud. "So pretty much every missile so far has promised large impact at a single point, then radiating out with weaker and weaker intensity from the epicenter."

"Obviously."

"Yes..." Toadbert gestured, "That's very fine... but what if we expanded the range of the missile? Extensively?"

"Can't we already reach the furthest edge of the Koopa Kingdom?"

"Not like that," Toadbert waved a hand, "No, no. I mean, the range of the destruction."

Yoshi cocked his head.

"So obviously every rocket gets a bigger ka-boom..." Toadbert widened his eyes and made a motion with his hands extending. "But that's boring. What if we created multiple hitting points for a single rocket?"

"Like a rocket with multiple missiles?"

"But better." Toadbert gripped his hands together tightly. "What if there was the threat of a _single nuclear missile_ destroying an _entire nation_?"

Toadbert paused for effect.

"Toadbert, you..." Yoshi began gravely.

"Yosh, I'm a rocket scientist." Toadbert rolled his eyes. "This is what I do. Create better and better things that will, of course, never actually be used. Our threat will keep the other side from using theirs, and their threat will stop our side from using ours. Deterrence!"

He pointed a finger in the air. "That's part of the Phantasy, Yosh. It's only a vision."

Sola Toadstool, princess of the Mushroom Kingdom and probable heir, was only seven-years-old when she lost an amount of vision in her left eye amounting to a ring of shadow, a permanent condition that would still be a family secret five years later when Luigi returned with his own daughter.

Mario and Peach, distracted with another secret of their own, failed to notice the slight hesitation their daughter's eye reacted with for three days.

Mario slammed a fist down on the royal dining table, shaking the silverware with a short but tremendous clatter. "Were you trying to keep this a secret from us?"

Mario's temper had become an unpleasant surprise visitor ever within the family ever since Gadd's first nuclear bomb had replaced him as the nation's protector.

"No," Sola lied, face straight as a line, "I thought maybe it would go away."

"What is it?" Peach said calmly, but still with a hint of fear, "You're not blind in your left eye, are you sweetie?"

"No," Sola replied calmly, "It's like a big dark ring. I can see its outline with both eyes open, but with just my left it's almost big enough to cover everything."

"Sweet Mamar." Mario shook his head. "How did this happen?"

"I don't know."

Mario stared at her, his eyes burning.

"Mario." Peach put her right hand over his. "What is wrong with you? We need to get Sola medical attention, now."

Mario shook his head. "You're right." But his tone of voice still portrayed his anger.

That his own little girl would lie straight to his face, with those big eyes and that calm manner...

Sola's brother, Lumen, registered little of the conversation except his sister's brave manner, the sheer will she extolled in facing her father, and in generally braving the terrifying injury she had suffered. The look in her eyes, both the healthy right and the damaged left, shone with an inspirational light.

Her expression haunted him that night, and a small seed was planted in his heart.

The seed properly sprouted eight months later, a few days after the 2003 New Year, when Lumen went to see a movie with his Uncle Yoshi.

While Yoshi hogged the popcorn, Lumen watched the film with wonder— his third, but the first that made him feel like he was glowing. About an hour-and-ten minutes into the film, near the climax, the protagonist realized what he had to do, and, standing on a rock, looked toward the sacred mountain he had to climb with a certain echoing expression on his face.

The look of determination and will throttled Lumen, and he felt like the air had been knocked out of him. A string of fuzzy memories danced through his mind, until he realized that he had found his purpose, his expression: film.

"Why're you standing up?" Yoshi glanced over. "The movie ain't over yet."

 _I saw a film today, oh boy_

Lumen sat down slowly, a chill running up the back of his spine.

"Are you okay?"

Doopliss the duplighost, meandering weakly down an alleyway, ignored the person behind him. It's the very end of 2006, about to be 2007 again— and the New Year.

And for Doopliss that holiday meant the same sorry thing it always did: he was about to lose another full year of memories, this time of the year 1999— to join the great void that all his memories older than seven years sank into.

This time was especially bad, though: now he was going to have no more memories of the time before the Cold War began. Now his entire memory would be drenched in an anxiety that would seem to have always been a part of life.

"No no no..." Doopliss fell up against a wall.

A young koopa girl in a red shell passed him by, head ducked.

"I can't do it…" He said a moment later to the again empty alleyway.

More than most, the duplighost felt anxiety over the great bomb. His nature as a ghostly fabric made him more susceptible to world vibrations, of the metaphysical waves occurring all around him. The little and big fears of the people regarding the bomb wound themselves all the way up inside of him, so that the more scared society was, the heavier he himself became with tension.

He thought back while he still could to 1999: back when he was thinking even farther back to better times, doing things he couldn't remember anymore. Memory of a lost memory. He thought maybe he used to be a fun guy. Now he wasn't even going to remember remembering being fun.

"Buddy," Someone came up behind and put a hand on his shoulder, "You seem like you need help."

"We all need help," Doopliss moaned, "Oh god, the bomb's gonna kill us all. One of those stupid bastards is gonna fire the rocket, and we're all going to die. It's all gonna be gone, all of us, everything, everyone, dead."

"Holy moly, buddy," The green man with the strange glasses and ever-present grin put another hand on Doopliss' other shoulder, turning him so they faced each other. "You gotta get a grip on yourself."

"Why are you grinning?!" Doopliss' jagged mouth opened in disgust. "Why are you so happy?"

"Because," The man suddenly burst into outright laughter, "I had one of these!"

Before Doopliss could react the man had forced a glowing green bean into his mouth.

"What...?" Doopliss gasped, but he was unable to spit the bean out: it was already crawling down his throat.

"Eat your greens, you sheet-rat!" The green man cackled, releasing Doopliss, and then prancing away into the shadows.

"Urrgghhhhaaacckk-!"

Doopliss tried to cough the thing up, but it was no use. As a duplighost he hardly even had a throat anyway: the bean was already being dissolved in his pseudo-stomach.

"Wait-" Doopliss gasped, but it was pointless. He was falling forward, chin to the ground, beaten: a familiar position.

He felt his body grow numb.

 _Why did you kill me?_ He thought about asking, but even before the question had finished forming in his head, he could tell he wasn't going to die. No, he could sense in fact that he was about to take a vacation.

"Oh scheizer..." He mumbled as waves of light colored his vision.

The fireworks popped and crackled as the people moved through the streets, calling out: "Happy New Year!"

That year Luigi would return with his daughter wrapped safely in his arms. Sola and Lumen, fraternal twins (following along the weird rhythm of the world), would both turn twelve. And one person, in the midst of tears, would begin to plot nuclear war.

* * *

 **/A/N/: I know I said I wouldn't write another fanfiction, but... I had this seed of an idea, and before I realized, it had started growing.**


	2. 02: SO (Episode Ensemble 2)

Chapter Two: Stressed Out (Episode Ensemble 2)

The gleaming sphere ahead of me consumes my vision, its massive form taking up everything in sight until the darkness around is washed away. Its twinkling turning light is not unfamiliar to me, for I have seen many like it- but the pathos of the moment is entirely different, for this is the place, the moment, where I am to die.

The glorious light of this heavenly sphere is a fine final vision. How many times did I see it before, that great eye of God watching me? I believed I surpassed it long ago, looking beyond the boundaries of the original, quaint dream I had known. I thought I was beyond God's reach, in essence— the vision. In the darkness outside, where gleaming heaven and curling horror spun... The eyes were everywhere, no matter how far I reached.

God, can you hear me breathing? God, can you see me crying? I hold my right arm up, up, my hand reaching out for eternity, fingers splayed. The white light comes shining through, and I am a form of shadow now as well. These remembrances come rippling through me like a cosmic river, these glorious stardust memories...

I breathe deeply and hold the breath, feeling it circulate. My eyes close, my lips part, my breath comes flowing out. My existence is disintegrating, in everyone—

Everyone, everyone, everyone is at the feast, every member of the Koopa clan. It's 1986, on a shaded sunny day leaning on autumn. King Bowser Koopa has captured Princess Peach Toadstool of the Mushroom Kingdom for the second time, and the Koopa Kingdom monarch was quite sure that this time his forced union would not be interrupted. He dined with relatives mostly his age, proudly presenting his mortified wife-to-be who had hardly spoken a word the entire last week.

Some ways away, separated by threat if not distance, was little Wendy Koopa, six years old at that time.

"Where's Mommy?"

She wandered through the festivities alone, growing increasingly upset, while the distant relatives all around tried to ignore her. Bowser had put little importance to the children of his concubines, and so they garnered little respect. A few pitied Wendy, but they dared not comfort her— guests had suffered punishment for getting close to the royal children in the past.

Wendy kept moving, until she was beyond the crowd, trying to escape the noise. She's behind a small shed now, going for a bench where she can curl up and wait for the day to end. But there's two other koopas already there— two cousins, an older boy and girl, chewing enormous wads of gum.

"That's the one that was crying about her mom," The male cousin commented.

"My Mom, I can't find my Mom." Wendy looked back and forth between the two. "Do you know where my Mommy is?"

"Dead." The male cousin dropped the word like a rock. His eyes narrowed with pleasure as a small rush of power flowed over him.

"My Mom...?" Little Wendy's eyes widen.

"Nik, you don't know that." The female cousin grimaces at her brother. "Do you? She's certainly gone, that's for sure."

She looks down at little Wendy with disdain. "Your dear dad got bored with her. Thank Eld I'm not one of his children."

"What are you doing?"

Young Lemmy Koopa, nine, rolls out on his green ball from around the corner of the shed. He balances on it everywhere, and it'd remain like a precious childhood friend for another nine years, until the scorn of a cherished crush would drag him another few feet (and onto his feet) in adulthood.

"Heh, it's the retard with the ball." The male cousin said simply.

"What are you saying to my sister?" Lemmy asked tightly, his throat already constricting with stress.

"She's not your sister, kid," The female cousin still looked down at him, even while he's on his ball. "Different mothers."

A bolt of sweat trickled down Lemmy's face. "I know that. That doesn't mean she's not my sister."

"She's as much your sister as the Mushroom princess is your mom." The female cousin sighed. "Gods, your side of the family is disgusting."

"Wh-who the hell are you to say that?" He sputtered after a short choking sensation.

"Are you okay, retard?" The male cousin squinted down at Lemmy. "You're sweating awful hard. Turning red, too."

"I'm not a retard."

"Yeah?" The male cousin grinned. "Your big ball says otherwise."

Lemmy trembled. "What are you saying about my ball?"

"What I'm _saying_ ," The male cousin stamped, "Is that only a _retard_ would roll on a ball like that—"

Most times Lemmy would hide away after being bullied. But that day all the right pieces came together— something snapped. The small koopaling rolled forward quickly, arms tensing as he prepared to attack his cousin in some unplanned way.

The cousin let out a single "Heh" and kicked the rolling ball right out from under Lemmy, sending him crashing into the dust below. The ball, well-propelled, went bouncing off into the thick woods.

Lemmy, huddled up in a pile, began to cry.

"Well," The female cousin sighed, spitting out her gum , "I'm bored." She stood up. "Are you done, Nik?"

"Yeah, I guess."

With a single snap of the head Nik deposited his gum onto the ground, and the two cousins departed.

When only the murmured sounds of the nearby gathering remained, along with the chittering of summer cicadas, Wendy gathered herself up. She walked over to Lemmy and shook him with a single hand. "Lem? Lem?"

Lemmy's sobbing quieted and after another moment he snuffled rather loudly and sat upright, drying his face with the sides of his arms as nobly as he could.

"Uh, are you okay, Wendy?"

"Is my Mommy dead, Lem?"

Lemmy bit his lip. "No, Wendy. She's alive. They were lying."

"She is?" Wendy hopped. "Lem, can I see her? Lemmy?"

The excitement of the little girl and the pain of the moment made Lemmy realize the horror of the truth he was about to reveal. He realized he should have lied— he should have said the former royal concubine was dead.

Well, there was always time to lie.

"She... she's on vacation," Lemmy said simply.

"When will she be back?"

Lemmy moved forward and embraced Wendy in a hug. He stared past her into the woods, the shadows of the trees seeming to elongate all of a sudden. "It's okay, Wendy."

"Huh? Lem?"

Something fearful was creeping around his heart. He was too young to hope to understand, but the chill made him hug Wendy tighter. "I'll protect you, Wendy. No matter what happens. Forever."

The little girl said nothing, but her shifting body suggested her confusion.

"Just... shhh." Lemmy shook his head slowly. He knew it was an important moment, he knew it. "It's okay. Everything's okay. No matter what happens..."

"...I will it."

Lemmy finishes the order absent-mindedly. He sits cross-legged on his throne, staring faintly at a framed photo of Wendy on his desk. It's one of the very few possessions he keeps there.

"Very good, my prince." The servant bows low. "I will let King Bowser know..."

"No." Lemmy's voice remained low, and his face did not move at all. "You are my servant, right? This is in my domain. You may do this without notifying my father."

The servant says something. Lemmy tunes it out without thinking, staring at the portrait of his sister, grown older— more beautiful on the outside, but more of a stranger on the inside.

"Where did the last twenty years go?" He muttered to himself. "Me, and you... how did it end up like this?"

"My prince?" The servant ventured.

Lemmy looked up. "Just do it!" He almost shouted. "Good gods! Must you question everything?" His voice lowered, and the whole room seemed to darken. "I am the next king. Do you want me to remember this refusal to obey orders when I have all my power at immediate command?"

The servant bowed hurriedly. "No my prince. I will obey, my prince."

The servant scurried away, out of the effective "office" (as Lemmy had nicknamed it) that was the Koopa Castle's modern throne room.

Lemmy sighed, leaning his head back and letting his shoulders slack. "Where did it all go? The good old days— even when we lost all our battles, even when every fight seemed a foregone conclusion— they were better than this."

He imagines what his sister must be doing— either out stirring up a riot somewhere, or poring over arcane texts in her room. The last time he had visited, just a few hallways away, he had nearly choked from coughing on the multi-layered dust that coated the room, which circulated and glinted oddly in the air by the light of an ancient iron-gated window.

Who was Lemmy kidding? He knew how everything had ended up like this— how everything in his life had ended up the way it was: his father. Dear King Bowser.

He grimaced and felt his throat getting tight. He desperately wanted a drink, something to bite the constrictions away, but he would not allow himself to have anything like that for another three hours. The thought made him want to knock all the papers off his little desk, but he just sat there as stiff as a corpse instead.

Many miles away and one year later, Toad and Yoshi were returning from a funeral, sharing an umbrella. It was a mildly warm day, and the rain was not too heavy. In a few hours it would be a great time to go fishing.

Yoshi nudged Toad. "Say, did you see Mario's kid?"

"Which one?" Toad walked around a puddle. "Lumen or Sola?"

"The boy. Lumen." Yoshi was taller, so he held the umbrella. "Sola was perfectly normal. Crying... sad thing for a kid to lose their nurse. They're old enough to go without, of course, but... Ah, I'm getting off track. I'm talking about Lumen. He was completely reactionless! Did you see that?"

Toad cocked his head noncommittally. "He's a strong boy, I suppose."

The world turned a bit grayer as the rain began to fall more heavily. Soon it was hard to make out anything beyond a few feet ahead.

"Ah…" Yoshi pursed his lips. "You didn't see him, did you?"

"No," Toad admitted, "I didn't directly see him."

"Ohh, cause' you're too short."

"Shut up. ...But I know what you're talking about. He's a serious kid."

"But not like this!" Yoshi insisted. "He looked like he wasn't even there. Like he didn't care the nursemaid he'd had his whole life just died."

"Sounds like he's a young man." Toad said simply.

"Good Eld!" Yoshi said exasperatedly. "Trust me, you'd have to see him."

"I know the boy!" Toad returned in the same tone. "I've talked with him. He's quiet. Reserved. Reminds me of myself in my younger— Hold, what's that sound?"

The two turned around to see twin beams of light glimmering through the rain. Getting closer, the beams suddenly honked.

"Car." Yoshi moved quickly to the right. "When did we get in the road?"

"Hey, slow down." Toad was left in the rain for a moment and got a bit wet before he had returned under cover of the umbrella. "Better question, why don't you have a car? We're probably the only ones leaving the funeral without reliable transportation."

"I don't like machines," Yoshi said shortly. "Why don't you have a car?"

Toad looked up at Yoshi with a spot of irritation. "You know the reason for that already."

"Oh. Yeah." Yoshi smiled in a looped fashion. "Even for your people, you're, uh, a bit below-average, huh?"

"Be quiet," Toad snapped. "Now, as I was saying, Lumen is a reserved young man. He will probably cry when no one is looking, or he will not cry at all. That's the sort of impression he gives me."

"He gives me the impression of a ghost!" Yoshi blurted. "I can never get a word out of him."

"He probably just knows you're trouble!" Toad chuckled.

The two had lost track of where they were walking again, and it was hardly another moment before the glass door of a grocery store opened and the two walked smack into it.

Back at Mushroom Castle, the conversation there as well happened to turn to Lumen.

"What is wrong with that boy?" Mario sighed. He paced about the bedroom.

"Mario."

Peach's eyes followed his steps.

"You should have seen him, Peach." Mario sighed. "When we went out hiking, just a few days ago. We came to a short river in the hills nearby... We were looking for a way across and I found this part with some rocks sticking out among these rapids—the perfect place to jump across!—and the boy wouldn't do it!"

"Mario."

"Peach!" Mario spread his hands out, a look of grief stretching across his face. "The boy was so scared of jumping he began to cry! He was crying! I insisted he go, earn himself a bit of decency back, but he refused. Peach, I didn't say it, but I was so ashamed... thank Eld no one was there to see!"

"Mario, he is your son." Peach said tightly. "He does not need to learn how to jump. He does not need to become a warrior. That time is past now, yes?"

"Agh." Mario turned away and shook his head wordlessly. "That is all beside the point anyway, Peach. It is simply shameful. So he wouldn't cry at the funeral, but he cried because he did not have the courage to jump like a man... Why is he like that? He hides in his room all day, playing with that camera we never should have given him... I think we should go in there and grab that thing and see what he has spending all his time doing..."

"Mario, no." Peach laid her book down. "We have talked about this. He doesn't want to show us his movies, it's fine. It's his private thing..."

"He has no friends, Peach!" Mario threw his hands up. "Sola, my little darling, is a star— everyone loves her. But Lumen is like a little hermit. I don't know if his mind is alright up there..."

"Mario, for God's sake..."

This was the culmination of a series of frustrations Mario had had with his son for the past few years. In order to pacify Mario, and to quiet her own fears, Peach finally ordered a psychologist from the city to come to talk to Lumen and try to get him out of his room, as well to try (without forcing) to find out what his videos were about.

In this way it came to the royal parents attention that Sola was an actress in some of the mysterious films.

Sola was quickly summoned from her wing of the castle.

"Yes, it's fun," Sola beamed. "Lumen writes the scripts and sets up the camera, and then I perform..."

Mario frowned. "Are you the only person in his movies?"

"Oh, no. He acts a little too, and he gets some of the servants to play as well. Mr. Miror usually plays a bad guy..."

"Some of the servants are participating in this?!"

Sola's smile faltered. "Why? Is it bad?"

"It's..." Mario clenched his hand. "How do I not know about this? Why wasn't I told?"

So Mario interrogated Mr. Miror. Mario was too frightening, especially in his position as king, for the interrogated to handle well, and the gentle gardener quickly crumpled under the pressure. It was found necessary to send out a quieter go-between, and so Toadsworth (Peach would have little to do with the matter at all) was sent to question Miror.

About half-an-hour later, Toadsworth returned to Mario and Peach.

"There's not much to say..." Toadsworth professed. "He simply plays a few of the parts in the boy's plays. Boy's stuff, really— Adventure stories, mock battles. I really don't see what the fuss is..."

Mario attempted, as gently as he could, to dig into the issue again with Lumen, directly over dinner. But there was just as little success as before.

"Tell the psychologist," Mario said to Peach, "We want that boy out of his room. Whatever she can do, whatever she can say to get him out..."

Before anyone was quite aware, the rain had finished falling, the snow had come along, and it was 2008.

And a book is opening.

* * *

 **/A/N/: I have added a -Notes- page, as you've probably noticed. Most importantly, this page will house a timeline to help take in the plot. Some other sections of interest might be found there as well...**

 **The next seven chapters, which make up Act 2, can be read in any order. Of course, if you're reading this as the story is still updating, you'll just have to read the chapters in the order that they are published!**

 **T** **his seems as a good place as any to explain the basic structure of the story (this will be especially helpful if all the chapters are out by the time you're reading this!)-**

 **:Structure Notes:**

 **+Act One (Ch.1 &2) is the opening of the story, setting up the basic pieces. **

**+Act Two (Ch.3-9) is the "front side" of the story. Read this after Act One (obviously), but if you want you can read these chapters in any order.**

 **(To be updated...)**


	3. 03: HOH (Episode Mario)

**Act Two: Breaking Mirrors**

Chapter Three: Head Over Heels (Episode Mario)

It's a storybook that Mario wrote himself: literally called "Super Mario". The book is thin, and full of pictures, meant to be a children's book. One can go out to a library or bookstore and purchase a real, thick biography on the hero if they so choose, but this simplified narrative is far more popular across the nation.

This is a yearly reading: saved for the holiday set eight days after the New Year, Mario Day, when Mario first saved Princess Peach. Mario himself celebrates the holiday by reading his book aloud to his children. Both the children are thirteen by this time, and find the event dull.

Sola sat patiently, wearing a fine smile. It's enough to fool Mario. Lumen showed patience as well, if only to avoid yelling.

"A long, long time ago," Mario began, a symphony beginning to swell to life within his head, "Princess Peach of the Mushroom Kingdom was kidnapped by the evil King Bowser."

The actual text has vanished from Mario's mind. Even as he reads his own writing, he hears the full breadth of the song in his head, the roaring epic of his life. Light shines in his eyes as he reads the little picture book, his youth regained with a wrenching vigor. No one else in the room feels it like he does, but he doesn't need them to. He just needs someone else there, someone to recognize him.

1985— that was the first time. Mario had come from across the sea, stepping in to save the Princess.

Luigi had come along too. He had been weaker than Mario, but still a help. Over sixteen days the two brothers traveled through the Mushroom Kingdom. They had just crossed the border into the Koopa Kingdom when Luigi had been badly injured. The green hero was taken to a nearby town, where a team of medics was able to nurse him back to health. Mario meanwhile continued the journey alone, spending the next sixteen days fighting through the Koopa Kingdom by himself.

(Nine years later, Mario is having an uneasy conversation with the newly-crowned Captain Toad. The glass of ale in his hand is cracking.

"So you really thought you and Luigi were the only ones capable of saving the Princess?" Captain Toad shook his head. "How do you think we survived as a nation before you two came along? Did you never really think about it?"

Mario's mustache trembles. He knows something bad is hiding here, but he's not quite smart enough to understand on his own— besides, he doesn't want to know, whatever it is...

Shattering. Suddenly there's shards of glass sticking out of Mario's palm.

Captain Toad looks down at Mario's fist and smiles sadly. "I think you need a new glass.")

No, Mario certainly believed he was the only one who could have saved Princess Peach. The Mushroom Kingdom needed a defender, and the world provided: Mario. (And to a lesser extent, Luigi.)

Mario saved the princess, and the rest was history: nine years followed of various adventures and further kidnappings before Mario and Peach married in 1995, and Peach gave birth to...

"...Two beautiful children, Princess Sola and Prince Lumen." Mario finishes the storybook. "The End."

The warmth of the telling began to fade away, and Mario waited with some anxiety for Lumen to make some complaint as he usually had previously— something petty, such as the order of the children's names at the end of the book, or something unmanly, like regarding the wars between the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms being pointless.

But Lumen didn't say anything, he just sat scribbling into a notebook. Peach knitted quietly, rocking by the fire. Sola got up to use the bathroom. As tradition it was now going to be someone else's turn to read a book, but Mario suddenly couldn't quite remember who. His mind wandered in the blank moment, and the unhappy epilogue to his adventures came to his mind, the end of his conquests.

"What are we doing here?" Mario shivered, the snow and ice swirling about him like a thousand tiny biting tweesters.

1996\. The year that everything changed. If 1995 had been the happy ending to Mario's life, 1996 was the unhappy beginning of the rest of it.

It started near the top of a frozen mountain centered in a barren tundra, north of the Mushroom Kingdom. The location was only accessible by helicopter, being so high and remote.

The only notable landmark visible from the height was a valley created by a ring of mountains, all white with snow and ice, of which the present mountain was part of.

"I have completed my latest invention," E. Gadd announced with no small excitement, his elderly voice quivering like a swinging branch. The old human scientist was bundled up within two parkas, giving him a somewhat humorous, bloated appearance. Of the three people present at the moment, he was the closest to being properly dressed.

"Why are we outside?" Mario asked, shivering. He was wearing his usual clothes.

He turned to Peach. "Dear, aren't you cold?"

Peach had a single dark-pink coat on, hood off. Her hair blew about in the freezing wind, but her face was set with concentration. "It doesn't bother me so much. What is this invention, Gadd? You said it was a weapon?"

Mario scowled. "Yes, what is it? Are you afraid of it blowing a hole in your lab?"

Gadd chuckled, a charming if wet sound. "I'm afraid it would do much more than that. Look over there, if you please."

The three looked down from the mountain, into the snowy valley.

"Alright, boys," Gadd said into a portable radio, "Fire in T-10."

"Are we going to see something?" Mario complained. "Don't you have the weapon?"

Gadd lowered the radio. "The Weapon is a bit too large for an old man like me to carry." He chuckled again. "Might want to cover your ears."

"What?" Mario scowled. "Why…?"

"Mario." Peach's voice was almost a whisper. "Look."

She was pointing, up, up to where a lone airship was flying, high above the empty field of snow. It had just emerged from a bank of clouds, and was releasing something from a hatch. Moments later a small, black, long object came falling, making a beeline for the valley below.

"Excellent wind resistance," Gadd commented so quietly it seemed to be to himself, "I must admit, I was slightly worried about demonstrating this on such a windy day, but in the end I just had to trust the math..."

Mario squinted. "Is it a bullet bill?"

Gadd chuckled again, like leather rubbing against wet leather. "Something like that. Five seconds."

Mario shook his head. "Five seconds? To landing?" He crossed his arms slowly. "This is..."

The sound came first: a deafening blast that shut Mario up immediately. Then came the shockwave— everyone was knocked off their feet, tumbling backward several feet into the snow, head over heels, as a wave of snow came arcing over. Somewhere in the midst of it Mario heard Peach screaming, and some vague sound coming from his own mouth—

There was a flash, and it was over. For half of a tenth of a second, Mario wondered if he was dead: all he could see were flakes of snow or maybe ash falling down from the gray abyss of sky, reflecting some dreary primordial ocean.

Then he saw Gadd, the spry sixty-nine-year-old, standing up in the corner of his vision stretching his back out.

"It seems I miscalculated its power a little bit!" Gadd's glasses were cracked. "Are you alright, Mario?"

"Eldstar-in-heaven," Mario coughed, "What was that?"

He blinked.

"Wait. Peach, are you-?"

"She's over here..." Gadd gestured with a grin. "She was the only one of us smart enough to hold on to something, it seems."

Peach was still standing, though staggered, leaning up against a creaking tree. Her legs sprawled out, if the tree were to suddenly fall over she would have landed in the snow too.

She straightened herself and reached up to straighten her hair, patting the crown of her head several times.

"It's a good thing I decided not to bring my real crown," She said quietly.

Falling from above was the snow that had been in the valley, now a desolate, voided crater. Several mountains around the ring had chunks missing from them as well.

Gadd looked around at what fell and smiled thoughtfully. "I'm not entirely sure about it, but just to be safe, we'd best evacuate the area. This snow might be a bit... eh, contaminated."

Mario didn't like this weapon, this "atom bomb" as Gadd called it (so called because it apparently involved the destruction of some small things called "atoms"), and he never would like it. Still, though, he had to admit its value.

"This is the end, Mario," Peach crossed her arms, "The end of this so-called 'endless' war between the Mushroom Kingdom and Koopa Kingdom. It should have ended with our marriage, but," She sighed bitterly, "It didn't."

"I agree with the Queen." Toadbert nodded from his side of the table. "How long has this been going now? Ten years? Indeed, Bowser's mad perversions have kept him kidnapping our highness even after the birth of her children... the only thing that will stop him is a strong threat."

Toadette nodded. Gadd remained motionless. Yoshi lowered his eyelids thoughtfully. No one looked at Mario. No one wanted to say what everyone was thinking.

"Am I really the only person who has a problem with this… thing?" Mario looked around the table. "I really think Bowser has come around this time... I think he knows how wrong he was, for what he did, the last time."

No one said anything. Almost everyone kept their eyes focused on the polished wood.

"Remember my report?" Mario held his hands out. "Bowser was crying when I came to save Peach... he felt guilty."

"Mario, he will never understand," Toadette sighed. "No matter how many times you beat him..."

Yoshi chuckled. "Are we even sure this thing could take him out? Mario's beaten him up so many times and he just gets right back up..."

Gadd leaned forward.

"I assure you, this bomb would kill him."

Gadd leaned back.

Yoshi's eyes narrowed. He had never liked the wispy-haired human scientist, whose inventions had always seemed to make things more complicated and taken Mushroom society farther from nature.

He turned away from Gadd and addressed the queen. "But really, how many times has Mario fought Bowser now? And you've seen it, too... dropping him into lava, dropping him into a deep pit, blowing up his castle while he was in it… God, what else was there…?"

"What about when Mario tossed Bowser into bombs?" Toadette brought up, cocking her head concernedly, "When he took over Mushroom Castle…"

"Those were very small bombs." Mario tapped his fingers on the table. "This was much bigger." He closed his mouth with a small grimace— he'd inadvertently spoken a kind-of praise for the new weapon.

"Even if this bomb could not be used to threaten Bowser directly," Peach replied, "The power of this weapon is so great that it could be used to threaten all else. His entire castle could become rubble in a moment. The grains, the agricultural system of the Koopa Kingdom— contaminated in an instant. Destroyed."

"By oogly-boogly," Toadbert shook his head, "And what of the regular Koopa Kingdom citizens? Bowser may or may not be invincible, but his people certainly aren't. You destroy a king just the same if you destroy the people loyal to him..."

"That's sick." Mario growled.

"Hey," Toadbert held his hands up defensively, "I'm not saying that's something we _should_ do, just that if it's necessary..."

"Well, these are all good points," Yoshi conceded, "Still, I agree with Mario, I don't feel certain about this."

"There is little harm in simply continuing experimentation," Peach decided.

"What?" Mario sputtered. "You can't be serious."

"Since," Peach continued, "Gadd has informed me that it is virtually impossible for an 'atom bomb' to go off without being launched. ...That is true, yes?"

Gadd leaned forward. "Yes."

Now the small scientist was getting on Mario's nerves. Gadd had always enjoyed his little experiments. Now he was doing big experiments, administered with a river of money kept flowing by the government. Of course he was going to say whatever he wanted in order to continue production.

Mario turned to Peach. "I want to talk to you in private."

Peach looked back at him evenly. "I will speak to you in private when the meeting is adjourned."

The room took on a icy quality.

From there on the meeting plummeted from Mario's perspective. Despite his protests, the others at the table were able to argue him down at every corner.

"Think beyond the war, Mario," Toadette said, "Think of the global position the Mushroom Kingdom might have."

"You want to threaten everyone?!" Mario seethed. "Do you hear yourself? Or am I misunderstanding you?"

"Sarasaland is already supposed to be our ally," Toadbert said thoughtfully, "With the way they work behind our back, the trade deals with the Koopa Kingdom... I think they won't be so traitorous if they have a good reminder of who their real friend is."

Mario shook his head, but said nothing. The overall argument was logical, if distasteful. There were no words that could be wielded against it.

"Mario, you're a father now," Peach said to him when they were back in their private chambers, "You have two beautiful children to take care of. Your days of being a soldier are over."

Mario shook his head and looked to the side. "That's not the..."

"We can finally rest now," Peach brought her soft hand up to Mario's face, caressing his cheek, "We can have peace, ever-lasting peace. No more blood, Mario. I can relax in my own castle, I don't have to be afraid of being kidnapped anymore..."

Mario grit his teeth. "I'm already here to protect you."

"Please," Peach closed her eyes, "I know you do."

And then she lapsed into silence, which hurt.

Smiling sadly, Peach turned away and headed for the rose-curtained door out of the bedroom.

"I'm going to check on the children."

The children were fine, as usual. They were both healthy, though the boy, Lumen, demonstrated a collection of peculiarities even from his earliest days. While Sola loved to play outside in the sunny afternoon like a normal child, Lumen often enjoyed hiding in the shadows. Like he was powered by the moon, he was more active during the night than day. Over the years, as he became able to stand and walk on his own, his parents would often find him looking out a castle window at the night sky.

"A child of the night," Mario grimaced. "It's probably part of what makes the other children avoid him."

It was the year 2000, when both Sola and Lumen were five.

They spent much time in the Castle nursery, where other aristocratic children from around the Kingdom would come to play and make relations. Lumen was largely left to himself at these times, while Sola always seemed to be the center of attention, like a beam of warm light that everyone wanted to gather around.

"We just need to encourage Lumen to make friends," Peach said. "He's a smart boy... and creative. You've seen those drawings he made... If he would just interact with the other children more he'd be just as popular as Sola."

The nursery was centered in Mushroom Castle's courtyard, which Mario and Peach were able to watch down on from a third-floor window.

"Hmph, I doubt it." Mario growled, then brightened. "Sola is such a special little girl. Look at her. She knows everyone's name... it doesn't take her more than a single conversation to know."

There was a knock at the door behind the royal couple.

"King Mario. Queen Peach."

A green-garbed messenger ran in and bowed. "There is news from the Koopa Kingdom."

Mario crossed his arms. "Eh? What is it?"

It was some of the worst news imaginable.

"HOW?!"

Mario's kick brought Gadd's laboratory door flying off its hinges, tumbling halfway across the room and shattering a desk-full of valuable glass instruments and other delicate materials. Gadd leaped up, mouth agape. His recently hired lab assistant, Toadbert, nearly fell from his wheeled office chair.

"Master Mario." Gadd greeted weakly. The last four years, spent in an intense rush of research and work, had aged the man considerably.

"How."

Mario stamped through the lab, around the table, and right up to Gadd, pulling him up by the cowl of his labcoat. "How?"

"Hey," Toadbert said feebly from the side. "Let him go..."

"Shut up," Mario seethed, giving the toad a look that sealed his mouth shut.

"What is wrong?" Gadd gasped.

"The Koopa Kingdom."

Mario had been yelling before, now he was trying not to scream. "The Koopa Kingdom has your _fucking_ technology! It has the atom bomb!"

"What?"

"No, not what." Mario shook the professor. "How? How, goddamnit?"

"No," Gadd shook his head, "The bombs are all here... the V1, the V2s, 3s, and, and the 4... we just saw them this morning." He looked for support from Toadbert.

Dazed, it took the toad a moment to come to his senses. "Yes... yes yes. They're all here. We..." He looked to Mario pleadingly. "Please put the professor down. I can show you."

Mario dropped Gadd with a spasm of his hand and followed Toadbert with hunched shoulders and flaring nostrils. Heading down several flights of stairs, the three came to the mountain lab's basement where the weapons were stored.

Four versions now existed, each designated by a separate code of V1, V2, V3, and V4. Each created a larger blast than the last, each deadlier. The latest, the V4, was reputed to be capable of destroying about a fourth of the Koopa Kingdom or a third of the Mushroom Kingdom's size.

"They're all here." Toadbert gestured to the full racks of missiles. "See? They all..."

Mario's face was bright red, never before flashing with so much anger. "You little idiot... our best spy, our most reliable spy, deep in the Koopa Kingdom... he says they have one of your bombs there, one of your rockets, one of your little killing machines..."

Toadbert shook his head slowly, but something dawned on him and his shaking turned dazed.

"The..."

Mario's eyes widened. "What? What is it?"

"The...the...oh no." Toadbert licked his lips. "Professor. The blueprints."

Toadbert walked across the dank storage room to a table. Pulling out a drawer, he shuffled through a tremendous stack of papers, all littered with rocket designs.

After an increasingly chilling moment the shuffling stopped. "The blueprints for the V3... they're gone."

Mario's memory stopped there, patched out, beginning again what seemed to be minutes later. The king who still felt like an ordinary man was staring out at the tundra from a window. In sight was the helicopter that would be taking him back to Mushroom Castle.

He was trying to decide what to do, trying to decide what to think.

"Please, Master Mario, calm down," Gadd reasoned beside him. "The Koopa Kingdom must not know that you are aware they have a copy of the bomb. If you stage a surprise attack as soon as possible you could go in and destroy the bomb and the blueprints before they could even think to launch… or, or threaten to launch."

Mario winced. He would have to be extremely stealthy, possibly impossibly so. If Bowser knew he was coming to destroy the weapon he could threaten to launch it before Mario was even halfway there...

"Or," Gadd swallowed, "We could launch on them. Now. With the bomb, before they know what's happening. They might have stolen my technology, but I doubt they have proper radar yet to detect a bomb coming for them. We only need something small, maybe the V1 or V2... just to destroy the base where they are keeping the weapon."

Mario remained silent, as he resisted the urge to strike the little old man. He began to imagine the explosion he had witnessed four years ago. He began to imagine such a thing landing on a city.

A slight cough. "It might be best to do it now."

It was Toadbert, holding a small tray crowded with coffee. He was smiling slightly, but his look was deadly serious. "There's probably not time to wait this out and think about it. Can we risk what might happen if that evil idiot Bowser has his hands on a weapon of such mass destruction?"

Mario trembled.

"We have everything right here." Toadbert said quietly, putting down the tray. "We have a chance, right now..."

Outside the window, the door to the helicopter was opening. The pilot, who had been ordered (or more accurately, screamed at) to wait inside, was falling out, landing on his stomach in a thick pile of snow. Now he was rising up again, clawing at the air, making his way madly for the door of the laboratory.

"What is that man doing?" Gadd asked. Mario watched without comment, then walked over to the door and opened it, letting the swirling, freezing winds scatter into the lab.

"What are you doing?" Mario asked, looking down at the crawling toad pilot.

"R-r-r-radio transmission. Oh god."

"What could possibly not wait?" Mario asked, eyes blazing. The thought of a nuclear bomb falling right above played in his mind. It was the only answer he felt he would accept from this pathetic little man.

"The Queen," The pilot sobbed, "She's been kidnapped again. By Bowser. He said if you try to save her, he'll bomb the Mushroom Kingdom..."

Everyone froze.

"And he... he took the prince and princess too."

He was standing outside, somewhere. It was nighttime, and warm... a lot warmer than the mountaintop. Adding to the summer heat was a hot, sticky liquid that was coating half of Mario's face and dripping down onto his clothes.

He put a white glove to his face and pulled it away, finding the already soiled glove wet with red.

"Eld, Mario."

Luigi was there, shaking his head. "You really did it this time."

Mario squinted. It was definitely Luigi, standing in the darkness.

Mario swallowed. "Where are we?"

Luigi sighed. "The Koopa Kingdom."

Mario tried to find the last thing he could remember, but his memories seemed to be failing him completely: he could only picture people at the moment, and without emotion at that. Peach, his wife. Bowser, his enemy...

"You blacked out, didn't you?" Luigi looked at him strangely. "Come on, let's go home."

"What's going on?" Mario rubbed his neck. "I... really need some water. I'm really thirsty."

"A small airship will be picking us up over here." Luigi gestured towards a field swamped in darkness, marked by two trees that almost formed a gate. "Follow me. C'mon."

"Wait." Mario paused. "Where's Peach?"

He became scared. "Lumen. Sola. Where are my children?"

"They're safe, Mario." Luigi gestured again. "C'mon. Another airship picked them up about half-an-hour-ago. It's okay now. It's all over."

"What happened?" Mario felt tears coming to his face. "Why am I...? Why do my arms hurt so much? Why can't I remember anything?"

"You need to rest."

Luigi helped Mario along, an arm around his brother's back. "One foot, then the other. It's time to leave."

"What about...?" Mario turned.

There was a large, obviously Koopa-style fortress. Despite being made of stone, parts of it were on fire.

"It's over. Everything's okay. It's all okay."

Twelve hours later Mario was back in Mushroom Castle.

"To put it simply," A doctor explained to Peach, "The animalistic side of Mario's unconscious, his id, completely took over. In the panic and desperation of the moment, his ego, his thinking self, effectively dissolved, and sheer pure will took over."

Mario blinked several times. "What are you talking about? I don't remember anything."

The doctor's smile was thin. "You're not directly aware of what you did, however, you might say it was the will of your 'true' self. All your doubts disappeared, and you... followed your heart, you might say. You followed without any doubts at all, to a place where you thinking mind was no longer needed."

Mario felt as if his head was lightly steaming.

"So you really can't remember any of it?" Peach asked later.

"No." Mario clenched his teeth. "I remember getting the... the news, and then I woke up outside that fortress..."

"We're lucky Bowser was bluffing." Peach looked out a window. "From what I know you took the helicopter straight from Gadd's lab and went right to the Koopa Kingdom yourself. Somehow you knew which fortress was holding the bomb, and you went right in. You destroyed the weapon with your bare hands, your bare body... Bowser was there, he had brought me and the children to that same fortress."

She gave him a strange look. "You tore into Bowser. Like nothing I'd ever seen before."

Mario searched her face. "Was it disturbing?"

"Yes." Peach smiled. "And arousing."

"Is he dead?"

Peach shook her head. "No. He bolted almost immediately. I think he knew you really were going to kill him if he kept fighting. I'd never seen him so scared."

"Hmm."

Mario had nothing else to say about that. "And the children... Sola, and Lumen, they're alright? They're fine?"

"Yes. Bowser treated them gently..."

Mario's hands clenched into powerful fists. "If he had touched a hair on their heads I woulda ordered every bomb dropped on the Koopa Kingdom."

Peach stood and walked to Mario, taking his shaking left fist into her soft hands and slowly massaging it.

Life was quiet for a few years after that. Mario announced in no uncertain terms to the Koopa Kingdom that if Peach was ever captured again, or if Bowser was even seen in the Mushroom Kingdom, the Koopa Kingdom would be decimated with atomic bombs. After the terrifying energy of Mario's last rescue, this threat was taken quite seriously. And indeed, Peach would never be kidnapped again.

Meanwhile, new atom bombs were created from blueprints untouched by Mario's wrath, and with their use the Koopa Kingdom would begin the collection of its own nuclear arsenal. It was made clear that attempts to destroy these weapons, whether by a regular bombing run or Mario, would result in launch.

Quietly, without comment, the Mushroom Kingdom's nuclear arsenal began to be placed in strategic locations near to the Koopa Kingdom. In the Koopa Kingdom, the same was done on the other side of the border.

Pointed at each other, the two giants waited, shivering at pin drops.

Then, in 2004, an uproar loud enough to wake the entire world erupted.

Revolution in Beanbean. A War of Succession in the Koopa Kingdom.

And then, the Shroobs returned to invade the Mushroom Kingdom. Those strange purple demons from void black space, merciless and endlessly malicious.

So it was that the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms became embroiled in their own personal wars, distracted from overarching hostilities.

A few days before the Shroobs announced their renewed presence with an attack, Luigi disappeared. For Mario, the disappearance was simply seen as strange at first—Luigi's attempt at taking a vacation—but after the Shroobs appeared, and Luigi was not heard from, Mario assumed the worst. It made his fury all the greater, as he jumped out into the battlefield.

"You're a King and a father," Peach shrieked, "You can't go out fighting into a warzone!"

"You're right, I am the King!" Mario shouted back. "They killed my brother, Peach. They killed Luigi. I will destroy them. It's as simple as that."

But the Shroobs were like a monstrous tidal wave, a horde of evil. The Mushroom Kingdom won most of the battles, but the shroobs just kept coming. Observing strange reflections of light on the moon's surface, it was theorized that the shroobs had set up base there, and were teleporting their ships directly into the Mushroom Kingdom using greatly advanced technologies.

People were dying. A lot of people. From a distant, historical point of view, the war would be seen as short: lasting only two years. It was little, compared to the extensive hostilities between the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms, not to mention the wars of old. But the costs would be terrible— the Shroobs second invasion would come to hold the third highest death toll ever recorded in Mushroom history, only surpassed by the revolutionary war that gained the Mushroom Kingdom its independence, and the Shroobs' original, infinitely macabre invasion of the 1960s.

Near the end, Toadette requested a private audience with the King and Queen. Her home town, Petalsburg, had been obliterated just weeks ago by a Shroob infantry force. Mario and Peach knew what she had to say. Everyone knew.

"You have to use it."

Toadette was wearing a suit, looking the most composed she had been in the last six months. Petalsburg had been on the front line of battle, and its resultant demise a slow and miserable one. Toadette had done her best to protect her home by directing aid to the citizens and providing geographical advice to the Mushroom Kingdom's military, but in the end the tide of Shroobs had swallowed everything.

"We decided years ago never to use the bomb," Mario declared. "You know this, Toadette."

Mario continually glanced away from her eyes, his head bowed uncomfortably. Everyone in the room knew why Toadette had been let in, including Toadette herself. It was only a matter of the necessary pressure— to build up until the decision was determined.

"They took no prisoners, Mario."

Toadette was an old friend, so she did not have to call him King. "Everyone who didn't escape— they were all killed. I did my best, but some refused. The old, those who had lost hope, even a few families..."

Peach reached a hand out. "Toadette..."

"They will kill everyone!" Toadette shouted, the clap of the sound sending everyone's blood rushing. "They will not stop until this kingdom is rubble! They want revenge, they want blood. For our survival in the 60s, because we did not let them slaughter us forty years ago, they want to make cattle out of us now...!"

Mario gave Peach a side-glance. He knew the Queen was already decided.

"This will never end," Toadette rasped, "Until you make the decision you need to. We will never stop the Shroobs until we use the bomb."

Mario closed his eyes.

The current of time pressed on, and like an unconscious dream, history fell into place. It was debated whether to aim directly for the hypothesized Shroob base on the moon, or whether to use the weapon in a decisive battle. Damaging the moon was decided to be too unpredictable of a move, especially with what effect it could have on the planet's electromagnetic currents.

So the Mushroom Kingdom waited for a chance.

Two months later, the chance came, when the largest battle of the war began. Millions of lives hung in the balance. It was decided, with considerable input from the chief engineer Toadbert, that a single V3 missile would be dropped.

Mario waited in his chambers for news; he did not want to witness the event.

"Forty million dead," The eventual messenger announced, "Around one million ours."

In order to lure the Shroobs out at least a few people had to be sent as bait. There was no other way. Everyone knew this, no one blamed anyone— at least not for years after. After all, the plan was kept secret for as long as possible. It came as a debilitating shock to citizens and families of the Mushroom troops when, years later, it was revealed that the Mushroom Kingdom had deliberately nuked some of its own people.

"Never again." Mario said to himself.

He turned to Peach. "Never again."

She nodded sadly, solemnly.

Panged with a creeping guilt, Mario flew out to the warzone a few weeks after the battle. By this time the Shroobs had fled, gone from the Earth. The moon activity that had been observed with the Shroobs' appearance had also stopped, and it was decided in uneasy silence that the aliens had returned back to their home planet.

Mario thought of Luigi as he looked out over the charred wasteland, a lifeless husk of earth spanning miles around.

"We had to," He said, alone.

The gray sky, glistening and flashing, began to drop seeds of rain. High up the clouds were crowned by a faint rainbow.

Peaceful times came, times simultaneously tinged with the fear of nuclear holocaust. The Koopa Kingdom's own personal war also came to an end, with Prince Lemmy Koopa coming into power. Would he have more of a desire to use an atom bomb? Especially now that the Mushroom Kingdom had proved that it, itself, was willing to bomb a threatening enemy?

Political commentators had a field day with the transition period.

"Lemmy is an enigma. An enigma wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a shell..."

"He assisted his father in his kidnapping of her highness the former princess. Clearly a bad guy."

"He is unhinged. He used to roll a ball everywhere he went. A big giant ball, like a clown or something. He will probably send a bomb flying the first chance he gets, just to see what happens."

"There are reports that he is in love with his sister... Fundamentally, koopas are completely different from toads, their unconscious minds drive them to incest… I have an interesting anecdote about this..."

"He murdered five of his siblings in order to ascend the throne. I doubt he has any morals at all. Who would kill their own family members?"

Mario and Peach generally ignored the outside voices. They already kept up correspondence with the Koopa Kingdom royalty through a secret mail system. Such was a necessity to keep from nuclear war from ever occurring.

Regarding Lemmy, Mario had remembered the koopaling as a fun-loving sort, who tried to be cheerful even in the midst of his battles with Mario. In his letters he now came across as a solemn young man, with a constant, depressing sense that his life was the bearing out of a long, inescapable defeat.

By this time the competition between the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms had evolved considerably. As the world's sole nuclear powers they were by far the two strongest nations. This led to the grouping of the Continent's nations into two corresponding hegemonies: one band of nations loyal to the Mushroom Kingdom, and one band loyal to the Koopa Kingdom.

As the powers of the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms increased, so did their reach. A great race began to gather the world's remaining powers into the hegemonies.

Circumstances evolved further. In order to more easily attract members to its alliance, the Koopa Kingdom began to develop a new economic system, said to be the way of the future. Rules and regulations regarding the sales of national products relaxed, and the wealth of the nation improved rapidly. The Koopa government had less and less to do with the growing flow of money, allowing the market's invisible hand more control. Nations that had leaned towards the Mushroom Kingdom simply due to its friendlier nature now began to align with the Koopa Kingdom's more advanced economic system.

Nuclear rockets, now built at multiple sites in the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms, were stored in ally nations, pointed at other ally nations. Everyone was becoming physically involved: if one of the leading hegemons went down in nuclear fire, so would all of their allies.

"I hate this," Mario said to himself, looking out one of Mushroom Castle's large windows one rainy day.

"What?" Peach had overheard him. She was putting in an earring.

Mario turned away from the window, his eyes moving directly to the shadows of droplets trickling down the carpeted floor. "I hate all of this." He looked up to Peach and flapped his arms out angrily. "The damned rockets, everywhere."

"No one likes it, Mario," Peach said patiently. "It's just how things turned out."

"No." Mario shook his head. "Damn. What if a missile accidently goes flying off? Everything would be gone."

"You'd best put on your suit, soon." Peach went to work putting in her other earring. "The conference begins in half-an-hour, doesn't it?"

Mario's lips squirmed, but he said nothing. He closed the drapes to the window, and entered the bedroom's large closet.

It was 2008, at the start of the END (Eradication of Nuclear Devices) conference, the first of its kind dedicated to diminishing the nuclear output of the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms, and perhaps ridding the world of the weapons entirely.

It was unlikely that the nuclear technology itself would be gotten rid of— dangerous or not, it was simply too useful, being channeled in massive nuclear power plants to provide energy for entire cities.

"What should I say, father?" Princess Sola's voice floats into the closet with the movement of a butterfly but the directness of a bee. She was thirteen and refined with the proper understanding of etiquette for a lady of her position.

"Have we prepared an ultimatum for Bowser? I want to be the one who delivers it, at least in part. The monster that kidnapped my mother ought to reel at the sight of a woman announcing our terms."

At the same time, her personal power, bold and of unclear origins even to Mario, remained in the memories of everyone who met her. By this time it had become clear that Sola was the heir to the Mushroom throne, rather than her brother. It pained Mario to think of it, but...

"Father?"

"You will mostly observe this time around, my dear." Mario said with tempered pride. "You still have much to learn of politics. And besides," He smiled, "You're not quite a woman yet. Keep watch, and see the different people that attend."

Sola nods. Despite her strength she is obedient to her father and mother— especially compared to Lumen.

Five nations attend the first END conference: the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms as the two superpowers, Sarasaland and Subcon as the two strongest allied nations (Sarasa to Mushroom and Subcon to Koopa), and Beanbean as the strongest neutral force. In the past Beanbean would clearly have been a member of the Mushroom Kingdom's hegemony, but the powerful revolution that had begun in 2004 had torn down (and slaughtered) the Beanbean monarchy, and now the whirlwind of forces that had taken control of the Beanbean machine acted consistent in their politics only in that they were inconsistent.

The conference was civil, and seemed like it may actually have lead to a productive development until the last hour, when things fell apart fantastically. By that time everyone had vitriol words to say, while no one was listening. Everyone went home disappointed, except for the Beanbean representative, who had only been sent to observe the proceedings regardless of outcome.

"I don't understand why it's so difficult," Sola said after, "Nobody wants nuclear war, right?"

"Yes," Mario said gravely, "But if one side has less rockets than the other, it will be harder for them to retaliate if the other side launches."

He shook his head. "But I doubt nuclear war will ever happen. It's all meant to be deterrence."

But a nasty voice in his head was telling him to just keep telling himself that. Just keep telling yourself that...

Peach was calm as always. Mario didn't quite understand it— after living with her for so long, he knew she didn't just pretend, either. She was simply incredible. Underneath it all, somewhere secret and important and outside of Mario's understanding, she had greater strength than he did.

Mario breathed in deeply, and cleared the conference from his mind. He avoided thinking about his son, as well. He could remain calm, if he just breathed deeply, and kept looking out windows— at the outside world that, despite all the fear, was still there.

Another six years passed, time's river moving faster and faster in Mario's perception. Internationally things went smoothly most of the time, easing the tension of the world and stretching flat the ribbon of time that, not bunched up in hills with events, one sped down as a straight and simple road.

Then a small, relatively inconspicuous bump appeared in 2013, when a series of aches began to pop up all over Mario's body. Neither increasing or decreasing in the intensity of the pain they brought, they were simple, consistent. Echoing and distant, he couldn't describe them properly to the doctors that came to the castle. The feelings were ominous; they seemed to come from outside his body.

It was early in 2014, in a wet chilly weekend of February, when Mario met the first and only doctor that understood the trouble: a koopa witch-doctor. In a private room they met, a last attempt by Mario who was ready to resign himself to the manageable pains.

"It's the hands of your clock, winding hard," The old woman said creakily, "Each tick and tock is another pulse."

Mario's eyes quivered. "I don't understand." He knew he shouldn't have called in the crazy old woman, probably picked up right off the street.

"It doesn't matter." The woman shook her head. "Enjoy yourself as you can. You won't be here for the New Year."

She seemed to want to say something else, eyes narrowed in the attempted comprehension of a larger vision, but she shuddered and shook her head.

"What do you mean?" Mario demanded.

"Ahh...no. The powers leave me… It... it's gone. My vision." The woman stood slowly, avoiding Mario's gaze. "I have nothing more to say."

"You can't just leave with that!" Mario insisted, standing and grabbing her arm. "Sit down!"

"You'd do better than to listen to an old fool like me." The woman said kindly, almost to herself, and her features relaxed until she had become some other person— some plain, creaky old lady with a houseful of cats.

"Explain yourself!" Mario demanded, tightening his grip on the woman's arm.

She frowned. "Goodbye."

"Wait!"

But just as Mario reached out with his other hand the woman vanished, right out of his grip. He realized just then, too late, that she had been a disguised shadow person, of the same species as the Shadow Sirens he had battled against—and alongside—years ago.

"Crazy old woman," He said, and turned his thinking away from the incident. He had always been good at not thinking about what bothered him.

So he would continue on, until December.


	4. 04: TD (Episode Lemmy)

Chapter Four: The Driver (Episode Lemmy)

Old King Bowser had called Lemmy to his room, sending a message by servant to the heir. It was announced as urgent.

Lemmy read the note and then decided it was time to have tea. Halfway through the tea he optioned to take a relaxed lunch. So it was that, approximately two hours after originally receiving the note, he went on his way. He traveled at the same pace and the same way as any other day, listening to the air for the old melody he'd lost, avoiding the sad looks of the servants that passed him left and right.

Bowser's room was in the oldest wing of Koopa Castle, a nearly nine-hundred-year-old corner tucked away among crumbling, molded stone. A cold, dark place, lit only by candles and not the electric lights that speckled the rest of the castle. It was no place for an elderly man, and so to Lemmy it suited his father just fine. Frankly, it was only by Bowser's order that this corner of the castle was kept in its nostalgically musty condition.

Bowser's room was furnished almost entirely in weak red. Musty red carpet covered most of the floor. In one corner was a redwood chair with three legs, a magic wand taped into place as the fourth. Holding Bowser himself was a faded red bed with hangings that dropped the king's form in shadow. Soggy red drapes framed an open hole in the wall that looked out to a closed courtyard, a shriveled and dank patch of long-dead, skeletal weeds. The old garden was barely forty feet across, covered above by a stone roof Bowser had had constructed five years before, and lit with a few weak podoboo flames. The full effect of these living arrangements reminded Lemmy of retreat into the depths of a shell.

By this time, early 2014, old and defeated King Bowser almost never left his room, rarely giving any orders out at all. His legs he could hardly feel at all anymore. Disfigurements scratched down the right side of his face and across his body— the final ugly reward for his years of kidnappings.

The door to Bowser's bedroom opened without a knock.

"Hello, father." Lemmy said quietly, entering with undisguised hostility. He hardly nodded to the kingdom's old driver before making his way towards the room's sordid window, peering out with a curl of disgust on his lips. "You're looking well."

A tremendous racket of coughing erupted from the bed, followed by a sour silence. "What is happening out there?" The king asked eventually.

Of course, Bowser was in no emergency. The old king marked all his messages urgent these days, out of some infantile demand for attention.

"The Blue Sprixie have won another battle in the Sprixie Kingdom," Lemmy reported disinterestedly, "The generals are feeling much more confident than last week."

The Sprixie Kingdom was a small island nation to the south of both the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms, lead by the Blue Sprixie royal family. A year ago the puny land had declared allegiance to the Koopa Kingdom's hegemony, despite a host of past grievances. Shocked, the Mushroom Kingdom and it's allies declared that some sort of set-up had taken place. The Mushroom Hegemony began to not-so-subtly funnel weapons and other resources to an insurgency group within the Sprixie Kingdom lead by a cousin branch of the Blue Sprixies known as the Red Sprixies. Predictably the Koopa Kingdom began "secretly" backing the Blue Sprixie's forces in order to even the odds.

In this kind of proxy war (the third of its kind that had occurred in the last two decades), the two superpowers could stab at each other without entering direct warfare, thus cutting off the steps towards a nuclear exchange.

"You must remember," Bowser coughed, hacking up what looked like a chunk of lung onto his bed, "That the generals will almost always be optimistic. As long as you give them men they'll tell you whatever you want to hear."

"Yes, father."

"And the Mushroom Kingdom cannot be underestimated. They always have some scheme prepared, some way out… They're slimy, muck— like unagi!"

"Yes, my king."

The bed rumbled and creaked as Bowser shifted his lumpy body, wilted face and sunken eyes searching. He reached out and parted the curtains of the bed finding Lemmy's freezing demeanor. "Do not say my title with such a sneer. I am your father. I deserve respect."

Lemmy's face was a mask. A slight movement at the edge of his nostrils the only suggestion of the twisted glare hidden beneath.

"Gods..."

Hand already parting the bed curtains, Bowser reached a little farther for a stone wall pedestal holding a bowl of rotten fruit.

"Listen," Bowser rasped, "Lemmy. What do you want for your birthday?"

Lemmy gritted his teeth beneath sealed lips.

"Would you like a new ball? Aren't you tired of your old one yet?" A slushy chomp slurgged from the bed. "I am the king, you know. Your birthday..."

Lemmy's birthday had been last month. This was the third time Lemmy had had this conversation with his ailing father, and he was tired of playing along.

"Get me whatever you want, King Bowser. And good night."

This basic phrase—good night—had a special effect on Bowser. It stirred something up in the memory of the old king, bringing any conversation to an end with ease.

"Oh, is it that time already...?" Bowser asked sadly. "Son, can I see your face?"

So it always ended.

Lemmy approached with halting gait towards the bed, doing his best to hide his distaste. Whenever he felt any forgiveness coming on for the old king, memories of numerous past abuses came to him. Forced to go to war, neglected like he was nothing— and with the twisting empathy he had come to hate so much, his pain was multiplied by seven, for all the koopalings who had been born merely as weapons.

He thinks back to when he was thirteen, the first time that Bowser sent his children out to do battle with Mario.

The year 1990.

For him, back then, the idea of participating in a battle—he being a thirteen-year-old boy raised in a militaristic society—was terribly exciting. He felt that finally, in this fourth kidnapping attempt, he and his siblings would be able to help their father in his plans and earn his love.

Each of the young koopalings claimed they'd be the one to beat Mario and Luigi. Lemmy included— despite his fun-loving temperament he truly believed he could beat the was because, despite his older age, Lemmy seemed to have the least realistic idea of what battle looked like. The idea of a fight seemed more akin to a game to him, like tennis, or maybe pinball. Even his training did not correct his ideas, as his training was easier than the other koopalings'— quite literally with child's gloves because he was considered for a long time to be mentally deficient.

Still, he was made to fight. In his own airship he rolled on his ball and fired magic spells from a wand before he was trounced, and the whole ship went crashing to the ground.

And just as simply, the others were defeated.

Oddly, however, Bowser seemed satisfied after Princess Peach was rescued by Mario. For whatever reason, the kidnapping had apparently been worth it this time, at least for Bowser, who came away with little injury.

His children, on the other hand, were all badly hurt— lacerations, bruises, and more than a few broken bones to go around. In the hospital their father visited them wearing an unnerving smile.

Still, they recovered from their injuries pretty quickly, since they were Bowser's children. Lemmy's ball survived the battle as well, much to its owner's relief.

It was only a year later that Bowser kidnapped Princess Peach again. This time, after obtaining secret information that Mario, Luigi, and Peach were planning a vacation together on Yoshi's Island, Bowser snuck ahead. He constructed a base under the ocean of the nearby Dinosaur Land continent, and kidnapped Peach just as she arrived.

Bowser's children were originally told that they had come to Dinosaur Land for their own vacation, and most of them were unpleasantly shocked when they came downstairs to the breakfast table one morning and found Princess Peach tied and gagged to a chair.

"Now our family is complete once again," Bowser announced happily.

"Again?" Ludwig muttered under his breath, furious.

Peach was frozen like a statue, an impassive look on her face. From the look on her face it could be guessed she was trying to be as far away from the situation as possible.

"Again?" Ludwig repeated, louder. "You kidnapped her again?"

Bowser's eyes narrowed angrily, and he clenched his teeth with a growl. "What was that, boy?"

"You kidnapped her again," Ludwig repeated, shaking his head slowly. His thick blue hair waved disbelievingly. "You stole her again."

"Yes, I did." Bowser proclaimed loudly. "And what of it, boy?"

"This is the fifth time." Ludwig growled. "The fifth time! And what is any different from the previous attempts? You know what—"

"Quiet!"

"Mario is just going to break into our home again and take her back." Ludwig seethed. "You idiot, you moron…"

"How dare you!" Bowser roared.

The other koopalings paled. Peach's blank eyes widened a fraction.

"And what?" Ludwig stamped up to his father. "You're going to make us fight again? Are you going to make your children fight as soldiers again, you incompetent idiot-?"

Bowser replied with a mighty open-palmed strike, sending Ludwig twisting and turning through the air, and crashing onto the hard stone floor below. When he moved again it was only to look up towards his father with an expression of deep hatred and trembling rage.

"You will not speak back to me." Fire snaked out of the corners of Bowser's mouth, "You nothing, you empty, bastard child. You do not have the right to question me."

Ludwig said nothing, but fought back the tears that pulled at the corner of his eyes.

Lemmy shivered and kept his head down, as did the others.

"Yes," Bowser stood up straight, "You will all be fighting again. Fighting for the honor and protection of your proper mother." He put an arm around Peach, and drew her tied body beside him, limp as a doll. "This time, with what we've learned from our previous battles, we will succeed in repelling Mario."

That was about the general summary of the meet. The koopalings were excused, ordered to get ready to move in three days to their new bases throughout Dinosaur Land.

The only two koopalings who actually wanted to fight were Roy and Morton Jr.. Roy because he was a brute to the core, and Morton simply because he was an obedient moron. They would all obey in the end, of course, but not without resentment.

Wendy, the day before she was to leave the underground castle for her outpost on Chocolate Island, broke down.

"Lem!"

She pounded on his bedroom door.

Lemmy had been messing around with a harmonica he had found. The moment he opened the door Wendy fell into his arms and began to sob. He walked back gently to his bed and sat, letting her sit down beside him.

"I can't do it!" She cried. "I can't do it, they'll kill me!"

"Wendy, it's okay." Lemmy patted her head awkwardly. "They won't… they won't kill you."

"They must hate us!" Wendy sobbed. "For stealing that horrible princess… Luigi and...and Mario must hate us."

"I… don't think they hate us." Lemmy had little opinion on the feelings of the Mario brothers, but he felt it was a comforting thing to say, for the sake of Wendy and himself.

"They're going to hurt me."

Well...there was no doubt about that. It was battle, someone was going to get hurt.

Lemmy sighed. "Wendy, you're sixth in line… me and the others are all going to be fighting before you. We'll probably take the brothers down before they can even get to you."

Wendy's look said it all. Lemmy felt embarrassed that his sister had such little faith in her siblings, though she was entirely correct.

Then an idea occurred to him. "Wendy… Listen: What if… after the very first hit the brothers give you, you pretend to be knocked out?"

"I don't want them to hit me…"

"Wendy, they'll have to hit you at least once. There's no way around it— if any of us surrender, father will know, and things will be much worse."

Wendy said nothing. She was clearly thinking the idea over. After another moment she confirmed with a silent nod.

"Yeah?" Lemmy nodded. "Like it? Now… how about this?"

From what seemed out of nowhere Lemmy pulled seven colored balls and began to juggle them right there on his bed. Wendy sniffled, and watched with more interest than one might expect from a girl her age.

A week later, things came crashing down as expected.

Beaten down three times in his fight with the brothers, Lemmy still felt the strength to continue, but he decided to follow the plan he had given Wendy, and simply stayed down. He watched the brothers out of the corner of his mostly closed eyes: standing near, and then like shadows dissipating away. They were leaving him— and moving out onto the Twin Bridges high in the Dinosaur Land mountains.

Rumor went around that at least half the koopalings stayed down before they were really beaten. Predictably, Morton fought the hardest and Roy tried his best, but still the two lost.

Ludwig fought as well, though, it didn't seem he saw the brothers as his target as he leapt about and blew fire in terrible rage.

Bowser Jr., beloved youngest as he was, was kept out of the fighting altogether, as he had been the previous year. This deepened several of his siblings' dislike for him.

The next year, 1992, marked two key events. First, Bowser made another attempt to kidnap Peach, but arrived at her castle only to find that her voice had been stolen by a witch from a foreign country, the Beanbean Kingdom. This lead to a ridiculous series of events that only involved the koopalings much later on when the witch, who had possessed their father Bowser's body, hypnotized them into fighting Mario and Luigi yet again. Mindless and silent, locked into a dreamless sleep interrupted only by brief flickers of color, the koopalings woke up on some obscure shore. They later found out that one a Koopa fortress had been made to fly, and subsequently was blown up by Beanbean Kingdom's Prince Peasley.

Most of them were too injured to move, and had to be hospitalized for the rest of the year.

Wendy nearly died. After the detonation of the fortress she sunk deeper into the ocean than her siblings, and emerged onto the same barren shore three minutes after the others. Her lungs submerged with salt water, she struggled in her sleep to breathe, and being a daughter of Bowser, managed to expel the water on her own. Still, she had been unable to breathe for a very long time, and by the time some Koopa Kingdom forces had arrived to save the koopalings she was pronounced to be in critical condition. While the other koopalings woke up one-by-one in the hospital that night and the next day, Wendy remained in unconsciousness.

She woke up months later, different than from before the great sleep. Since waking she always spoke softly, with a strange wet look gleaming at the corner of her eyes. Previously known to be overly harsh and sarcastic to her siblings, she became a more gentle, quieter person. To Lemmy it felt also like something dark had appeared in her, emerging from somewhere deep. There was something unspoken in her words, like an unpleasant lump under a carpet.

In part it was a seed of misery, a teenage girl in a situation she could not bear, but for which there was nothing to be said. When she was able to walk out of the hospital, about a year later, she was sixteen.

The other main event of 1992, for the Koopa royal family, was Bowser's sixth official attempt at kidnapping Peach. This was after the fiasco with the Beanbean Kingdom and the witch Cackletta— later in the year, while the koopalings were still recovering from their injuries. Bowser invaded Mushroom Castle in an honestly impressive plot involving a portal and took it over from the inside. For fifteen days Mario waged a fierce battle within the castle and all around the Mushroom Kingdom, manoeuvring through other magical portals.

This was the closest Bowser ever came to conquering the Mushroom Kingdom—(if that had ever mattered as much as Peach, Lemmy wasn't sure)—but in the end, he was still defeated.

1993 marked Peach's trip to Rogueport, and her being kidnapped by the X-Naut Army. Bowser went after to try to kidnap her, but he failed yet again.

By 1994 the koopalings had all recovered from the Beanbean incident, at least physically. However, encouraged by Ludwig, they had all become bitterly jaded and refused to participate in their father's schemes ever again. The exception was Bowser Jr., who was only reciprocating the love that the other koopalings were not privy to.

In 1994, the famed professor Elvin Gadd completed a time machine. His reasons for this were never disclosed outside the Mushroom Kingdom, but it was made known that the time machine was used by Princess Peach and two of her attendants, Toadiko and Toadbert. They traveled back to 1968, and were predictably kidnapped by the Shroob Army which had been invading at the time. Mario and Luigi traveled back to save her, and in the process, ended the First Shroob War of the time.

Little more was known about the incident by anyone outside of Mushroom royalty. The entire event became a dangerous topic in later years, as the idea that the Mushroom Kingdom had access to a time machine (technology unreplicated) lead many across the world to grow deeply fearful of temporal tampering. In counter the Mushroom Kingdom repeatedly announced that the time machine had been destroyed, and Gadd reported in a difficult, but reputable science report that time could not be changed— the events of the past could only be fulfilled. Therefore (unsaid but on everyone's mind), there would be no attempted changes so as to assassinate Koopa Kingdom royalty, or (later on) prevent the Koopa Kingdom from developing its own nuclear capabilities.

This development began in 1999, after a spy got ahold of the blueprints for the Mushroom Kingdom's bomb. The weapon had already been threatened several times in case Peach was kidnapped, as videos were sent to the Koopa Kingdom demonstrating detonation in remote arctic lands. Upon collection Bowser ordered his own replica to be made— thus allowing him to freshly kidnap the Mushroom Queen.

Everyone besides Roy and Bowser Jr. were against it. Even Morton had grown tired of the attempts to kidnap Peach. Opinions were diverse on whether it was right to acquire the nuclear weapons, but opinions mattered little— regardless of words, it happened. Above all it was the cretinous reason to first obtain the bomb that bothered everyone.

And, indeed, the error of the ways became quite apparent, when Mario came to save his kidnapped wife and children. It was smart that all of the koopalings had refused to directly participate in this last kidnapping— if they had come across Mario as their father had, weaker beings than him, they probably would have been killed.

Lemmy through all of this animosity, built up on scissored wars that seemed increasingly pointless, remained cheerful and happy and as playful as he could. He was still only in his twenties after all, a bachelor with nothing he _really_ cared about yet. He had given up his ball by this time, but he still acted so childish that he might as well still have been rolling along on it. He misunderstood the opposite sex's distancing from him as a reaction to his fundamental personality, rather than the cartoon facade he soaked himself in constantly. He believed, in his misunderstanding, that the cartoon was his actual existence, and that to be turned off by the cartoon was to be turned off by him. His small body added to this complex, and multiplied his imagination of his lack of attraction, exceeding the actual reaction women had to his form.

All of this made him put on an even more jovial stance, react to an even greater unseen joke, one that could last for decades instead of years.

Beyond the layers this may have all been to distract him from the feeling that he was gay. This was not a favorable sexual orientation to hold in the Koopa Kingdom, at least not for another decade, and unconsciously he forced himself to look away from it. An attraction to a man was a mistake— another of life's jokes, of which there were so, so many to enjoy.

These endless thoughts and counter-thoughts crumbled during the strife of the Succession War, much of Lemmy's immaturity and light-heartedness going along with them. It took everything he had to win that war: to watch his siblings kill each other, to survive against them, and then in the depths of fear and intrigue to take Ludwig's life, and finally end the war by maneuvering the surrendered Larry into place to finish off Iggy.

Near the end of 2005, on a chilly fall day embraced by approaching winter, the War of Succession officially ended. In Koopa Castle's grand hall Lemmy stood ten feet ahead of Larry and Wendy who stood behind him, heads tilted down. They all faced Bowser who sat dissatisfied on his throne. The report had come in the previous day that Iggy had been killed by Larry. Just hours ago Larry had returned physically to Koopa Castle.

Bowser waited in silence. He would not speak— he would let his children simmer in the sharp silence.

"It is over," Lemmy decided on simply. His heart thudded weakly in his chest— or it felt like it did. The adrenaline was probably lighting it up like a firecracker in the night, but Lemmy only felt its echo "I have won the War of Succession."

Bowser gestured dismissively to the two siblings behind Lemmy— Wendy, who was shivering and staring past everyone at the tapestries behind the throne, and Larry who looked consistently like he had just been smacked in the face. "And what about them?"

Larry stiffened. Wendy did not react in any discernible way.

"They have surrendered unto me," Lemmy returned his father's harsh gaze, "They pledge allegiance to my new reign."

"Is that right?" Bowser looked from Larry to Wendy. Larry nodded silently. Wendy didn't react to the question, but had her hands clasped together, whispering in prayer.

Bowser looked back to Lemmy. "Are you willing to accept the fear of them at your side? The chance that they could rise up and cut your throat? Do you accept that possibility?"

Lemmy said nothing, but cradled the intense hatred he held for Bowser in his heart. Everything the king did seemed to be designed to inflict pain or injury.

Maybe… maybe he had been setting the koopalings up against each other since they had been little, all in preparation for the day that one would kill the rest. Was that simply how it had to be, when one had so many children?

There was a sound of shuffling, clasping metal as the four guards near the entrance of the room straightened themselves. They clutched long spears in their hands, tipped with stone that could pierce flesh like butter.

Larry stifled a sob.

Lemmy closed his eyes, and shut everything out for a moment. He breathed in deep— taking in the scent of the ruddy stone of the castle, preserved since the old wars more than four hundred years back, breathed in the smell of the brimstone throne he was to inherit, smell of fire and heat from some other place, colored outside the world, his father's smell of authority—(what smell was it really, an unending burn of testosterone?)—that smell Lemmy had always associated with fear and the shadow of pain around the corner, mixing with the smell of his siblings— the sharply contrasting smell of Wendy, who in the past months had begun to anoint herself with chaste, reverential oils, and Larry, crying silently, the salt of his tears adding to a slight smell of urine…

"I accept the responsibility."

Bowser leaned forward, his eyebrows raising in some hideous disbelief. He had really wanted them all dead, hadn't he? "You accept these two as-?"

"Yes, by Eld himself, I accept it!" Lemmy shouted.

The reverberations in the room settled, and no one said a word, only Larry's short sobs continued to echo.

Lemmy as heir was more and more simply a prince regency as the years after passed. Just two years later, Lemmy was able to begin the construction of a satellite space station in secret, without his father's knowledge. It was a small thing— more of an experiment for larger future projects.

Bowser never found out. And after another two years, in 2009, he shut himself away in his room, and left almost all rule to Lemmy.

Bowser kept the title of king to himself, however, and through an insidious and pervasive influence on his son kept the kingdom on a certain track regarding international relations.

So it was that Lemmy was forced to be designated "Chief Representative of the Koopa Kingdom" at the END Conference of 2008, which Bowser had no interest in attending.

Each nation at the conference was represented by two individuals. The nations had their own tables which circled around the center of the room where a hologram projector was set to play various images. Each table had paper, pencils, and cups of water.

None of that interested Lemmy, however. Where in the past he would've begun to doodle on the paper regardless of his position, his mind now focused to stretch around the room, observing the other representatives that had appeared from the different nations. Queen Daisy of Sarasaland, Harhall Bleetch of Beanbean…

Lemmy leaned over, looking towards the Mushroom Kingdom table. "Who is that?"

Chief Koopa, his assistant at the conference, frowned. "That's King Mario and Princess Sola, your highness."

"So my eyes are not de-see-ving me," Lemmy said seriously, evidently not noticing the pun he had accidently pronounced. "Princess Sola. What is she doing here? I thought Mario had a son."

Chief Koopa didn't answer, he knew the questions were strictly rhetorical. Lemmy already knew the circumstances, he just liked to talk like this sometimes as a way of organizing his thoughts.

"Prince Lumen should be here, should he not? Heir to the Mushroom Kingdom?" Lemmy leaned back, and didn't avert his gaze when Princess Sola turned and noticed him. "He is the older of the two, isn't he?" The tone of the words suggested it was an actual question.

"By a few weeks, yes your highness."

"Is she prepared?" Lemmy leaned forward, and Sola looked away. "A twelve-year-old girl…"

He moved his lips from side-to-side as if there was something else he wanted to say, but nothing came out.

To Lemmy, the conference was ultimately successful. Of course, no one agreed to cut down on the number of nuclear weapons (there would be some progress on this two years later during the END 2 conference), but the public's fears of nuclear war were quieted. The rulers of the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms were absolutely against launching the nukes, assuming the other side held the line as well. To launch was strategically useless. To bomb one nation was to prepare your own to be destroyed. There was no game, no outcome where a bombing would be useful…

Now it was 2014 again, November 29th. In three weeks would be the END3 conference, where the proposal to abolish all of the nuclear weapons was to be presented by the Mushroom Kingdom. A good time to do so, with the Cold War tensing due to the Sprixie War...

...And Bowser was springing his trap as Lemmy approached his bed, revealing the real reason he had called his son down.

"I want grandchildren."

Lemmy tightened, repulsed by the form in bed and its sudden demand, then breathed in deep and exhaled quietly.

Bowser coughed. "You're thirty-five now, or something… I know you have a small collection of concubines, most of which I found you myself."

He leaned up against his bedrest as best he could. "And yet, there's been no children. Certainly, it's problematic to not have a queen… But more importantly, and more simply, a heir must be produced."

Lemmy gritted his teeth. "I have plenty of years left. Besides, I must be honest, it's strange hearing courtship advice from you. You never picked up a queen yourself."

"That was not my choice," Bowser growled, "I knew who my beloved was for almost my entire life. I did everything I could to marry her," His voice lowered, "Even to the point of sacrificing everything."

"She was a human," Lemmy said quietly.

"That doesn't matter," Bowser shoved the issue aside, "What matters is the heir! You need a son. Larry already has a princess and child. Wendy only has her freak followers… but she could never inherit the royal line regardless. Do you realize what will happen if you have no heir?"

"Obviously," Lemmy ground out.

Bowser proceeded anyway. "When you die— chaos. And then the throne will go to Larry and his lineage, avoiding the worst case. And Larry is an effeminate, useless idiot." Bowser sighed. "You're the one who won the Succession War, you are the proper heir to the Koopa throne."

Lemmy turned away. "Thank you for the advice. _Good night_ — I have business to attend to now."

"Wait…"

But Lemmy did not wait.

Hours later he sat in his private room, writing out various correspondences and official bits of business to different contacts in the kingdom. The country was in a bit of a financial depression at the moment, and experts were scrambling to figure out how to fix things.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in." Lemmy called.

It was a messenger. He held a small, wooden box.

"What is it? A package?"

"Yes, sir." The messenger bowed. "We found it in the postage this morning, marked for you. No source address... "

Lemmy raised an eyebrow wordlessly, the question obvious.

"We already opened it," The delivery man continued, "And found… nothing, sir, besides an envelope. It would seem to be a private message for you, uh, sir, so we didn't look into it…"

Lemmy grimaced. "And you're sure there's no biological agents in the envelope? Anthrax?"

"Tested thoroughly, sir," The messenger saluted, "Just the message and some loose pieces of paper."

Lemmy's eyes narrowed, and he pondered. If that freak Gadd was still alive, he would have had the envelope torched a mile away from the castle— no use risking micro killer bots or some other ungodly creation. As it was, he felt opening the envelope was worth the risk.

"Alright, leave it here." Lemmy gestured. "Table."

He waited for the messenger to leave before opening the small, plain envelope. With surprised eyes he read the letter inside, and then his gaze dropped to the small bits of paper that had fallen from the envelope. Somewhere in his head there were bells ringing, the sense that a monumental slope was already approaching, and that what was going to happen next had to happen.

He put his work away.

* * *

 **/A/N/: _The Driver_ , by Bastille, was produced for the 2011 movie _Drive_ , directed by Nicolas Winding Refn. Drive is a fantastic movie, one of the best movies of this decade. If you're okay with violence I highly recommend the movie. Damn, it is good.**


	5. 05: TiDa (Episode Toadbert)

Chapter Five: Tiny Dancer (Episode Toadbert)

According to the newspapers, his mother had been a dancer. A famous one, in fact— one of the brightest stars on the Mushroom stage, in the era before the movies came along and destroyed the magic of the theatre forever.

And, of course, before the Shroobs came, and destroyed his mother.

2015\. A lone wanderer, covered with a thick gray parka, journeys through the cold white mountains where Gadd's old laboratory had been stationed. He comes across the abandoned heap and breaks in, looking for shelter from a snowstorm.

Wandering through the dark, mildly warm construct, he comes across Toadbert's journal.

Most of the notebook was, appropriately, notes— writings about the various rockets, the nuclear devices the toad scientist had designed, and of those that Gadd had created earlier, used as the basis of study for mechanically greater, deadlier things.

Within the depths of the pages: at the tops, sides, and bottoms, scrawled tightly between rockets, upside down, all around, written in small circles— were little entries, little paragraphs (sometimes larger paragraphs), sometimes full pages, sometimes fragmented words, of text. A flash of thought, the text of a life.

Small orbs of event, around which the thread of time wound, disclosed years later…

A small box fades into view, open. A tiny toad ballerina spins inside, twirling one leg tip-toe, one slightly raised, an expression of contentment. Arched brow and cheeks raised pleasantly in a face that is all curves, no eyes and mouth, just white porcelain.

It spins to a song, now a classic from the late 1930s, chiming like small bells in echoed space. No words… but no words are necessary. The hope and gentle weeping of the tone makes it through, and sends the soul shivering.

Toadbert holds it in an open palm, looking on the charm with a feeling of love. It is a rare possession, perhaps the only of its kind: a surviving replica of his mother.

He has carried it since before he could remember.

His wristwatch chimes. It's time to go. He shuts the protective lid of the tiny dancer and pockets the box, making his way downstairs. Down to Mushroom Castle's throne room, where the massive, daunting, haunting time machine stands up in front of the throne. Peach stands with her back to him, looking up to the heights of the machine, reaching her hand up, up—

 **1994.**

Toadbert glances around. "Is Toadiko here yet?"

He's very nervous, about as nervous as he expected his weak self to be, and it's causing him to babble already.

"No." Peach says, turning around and momentarily dropping her arm from its reach. She's stunning, practically glowing. She'll never be quite like this after—

Of course, it was a terribly dangerous mission, one that never should have been attempted in the first place.

The foremost mistake was this: the wrong date was entered. Or rather, a date was determined and decided on, based upon the historical documents available—one month before the Shroob invasion—to travel back to.

"Everyone felt, at the bottom of it all, that it was a bad idea," Toadbert writes in his journal, "There was a bad feeling associated with the whole thing from the very beginning of it. But no one could say 'no'."

Why were the historical documents off? According to the official Mushroom government's papers the invasion began April 22nd, 1968. Princess Peach and her foremost advisers, Toadbert and Toadiko, decided that traveling back to March 22nd, before the Shroobs had arrived, would be appropriate for their mission.

"Of course, the common concerns associated with time travel were not yet commonplace," Toadbert scrawls a few pages later, "It came as a revelation that such a power was possible at all, and there was some insistence, not wrongfully, that we use the device as soon as possible before the Koopa Kingdom became aware of it."

Twenty-one years later, the man in the parka flips through the journal, wondering if Toadbert had expected someone else to read the notes someday.

"But the invasion actually began March 21st. We teleported ourselves right into the midst of it— pigs to the slaughter. Most similarly to animals, Toadiko and I were chained up almost immediately upon arriving, while the princess was taken elsewhere. They forced Toadiko and me-"

The entry breaks off, probably for good reason. Doodles of rockets cover the rest of the page, accompanied by a plethora of small mushroom-shaped explosions and what look like fuzzy skeletons.

The next page is entirely a ballerina, drawn with such detail and depth that the lead practically leaks off of the page like ink, glimmering. The soul comes through.

Toadbert didn't write it, but it's all there in the drawing. The pain of each line stroke, the mournful face, the small inaccuracies that give the ballerina an odd bent— the full life of the artist can be read in the single work. The echo of every moment comes through, significant beyond anyone's comprehension.

Toadbert couldn't save his mother, nor his father. He couldn't even save himself, and would have died an organic battery if Mario and Luigi hadn't come back in time and ended the Shroob invasion themselves.

(This time traveling was not in the official records, which claimed that a specific Mushroom battalion had forced the Shroobs off the planet in a near-legendary, secret conflict that killed all of the soldiers involved.)

Upon returning to the present day of 1994, it was discussed whether the Princess and her adviser's journey back had changed history, causing Mario and Luigi to be the heroes of the event, and not the secret battalion. Closer inspection of the historical records and of testimony given by those who had traveled back to 1968 demonstrated that the existence of the battalion had already been a fabrication, as well as many details of the Shroob Invasion. At best it was guessed that the records were purposely falsified by the previous Mushroom King, Peach's father.

With that disaster concluded, the time machine was dismantled.

The device's original creator, Professor Gadd, cared little. He had already jumped to working on a new invention.

Toadbert had always admired Professor Gadd. Gadd was a solitary man, able to direct the course of society invention by invention. As an example that more directly affected the public, Gadd had focused on agricultural affairs before creating the time machine, saving untold lives across the world by developing easily grown, high-yielding cereal grains.

Toadbert found the courage to visit the elusive scientist a year after the time traveling. He had been bothered by bad dreams for almost two months now, and felt he needed to speak to Gadd.

After some research he tracked Gadd down to his remote lab out in the mountains.

Gadd was a quiet man. He was generally cheerful, often unnervingly so, even in the midst of serious or frankly disturbing discussion. He had a way of moving his head back and forth as he spoke, tilting his wispy white hair like some invisible breeze moved through his mind. He had more energy than he appeared at first glance. Even being small and wrinkled, he moved about his lab with a sparking energy, only stopping to ponder the next step of an experiment, or to take a rare break.

To get a visitor at the mountain lab was _very_ rare, so Gadd took a break when Toadbert appeared one day.

"I'm very very very glad you were willing to speak with me," Toadbert babbled, "It is such a great honor to meet you, Professor Gadd."

"Yes, yes," Gadd nodded, serving some tea, "I'm quite aware. You were one of the Princess'...ah, Queen's now, I should say... advisors who used the time machine last year."

"You knew?" Toadbert took his cup with a shaking hand, "I mean, gosh, of course you did. I just… people weren't sure where'd you gone after completing the machine, uh…"

Gadd took a sip of his tea and shrugged. "It was a noble experiment, but I had to move on."

"Well..." Toadbert drew off, "That's what I came to talk to you about today, sir... if I may jump right to the point."

"By all means."

"Are you _sure_ that changing the past is not possible?"

Gadd's smile took on a gentle comforting quality, like a parent telling their child the family dog had gone off to a farm. "Put it out of your mind at once, young man. It is quite impossible. Time and space are all one great mass, the space-time dimension. One cannot simply alter any part of the great, ever turning system, and put things out of place. The universe is set quite too cleanly for that."

"How can you say that?"

Gadd's eyes widened. "Hmm?"

"How can you say that?" Toadbert repeated, more excitedly, "Subatomic particles, at the smallest fundamental levels act randomly, impossible to predict... a move forward or backward should be capable of changing things..."

"You don't know what you speak of," Gadd closed his eyes, "The universe is closely ordered. If we do not understand a process, it is simply because we do not understand it yet. Everything fits into place."

Toadbert frowned. "You can't say that. If everything just fits into place we shouldn't be able to walk from point A to point B— isn't that an interference with space?

Gadd smiled at Toadbert kindly, but at the same time demeaningly. The expression gave Toadbert courage.

"Just last year you sent that time machine to Mushroom Castle, unsure if the past could be changed or not! You didn't have any opinion settled then. One experiment gone wrong and you've shut down all your possibilities?"

"What is the point of this?" Gadd asked. "Are you thinking of trying to change something?" _...Again?_ He left unsaid.

"Maybe." Toadbert replied brazenly. "Don't you want to change anything? Why did you build the time machine? You had to have believed it could help the world."

"Well, to be frank, I was already quite confident of the machine's abilities when I finished working on it." The admission came out with that wry smile, like it was a good-humored joke.

Toadbert froze. "What?"

"What are you looking for?" Gadd shook his head. "You are a young man, you should be looking towards the future. ...Spending time with pretty girls. You're... twenty-two or so, I'm thinking?"

"Twenty-seven, actually." Toadbert frowned. "And don't change the topic. You sent that time machine to Mushroom Castle, knowing it wouldn't work?"

Gadd sighed. "It worked quite well! It lead you all back in time, just as was necessary to defeat the Shroobs and bring about the world we live in today. Just as I remembered, back when I was a young man, studying at Thwomp Volcano..."

Toadbert's right hand was deep in his coat pocket, grasping the small box with the ballerina inside. His grip tightened and loosened in sharp alternations, bruising his palm.

"In any case," Gadd said in a summarizing tone, "The time machine is gone. Dismantled. It was of no further use, and even if someone was to use it, it would only further fulfill what has already happened."

So Toadbert's mother had to die, no matter what? There was a little bit of comfort in the idea.

Toadbert stood and turned to leave— it was clear Gadd could not help him anymore.

"Good luck out there."

Gadd returned to the depths of the lab, leaving Toadbert in the cold.

Two years later, head full of books and dissatisfaction, Toadbert began to regularly visit a Toad Town club, Club 64.

He was not a stranger to the locale, but neither had he spent so many days and nights there before. The endless, vague dissatisfaction and boredom he felt, despite all his learning, was best numbed by alcohol.

Beer was too weak, and he hated the taste.

Spirits were strong, and made him feel well faster, but more often than not he would get too excited by the feelings arising within him and overdrink, face to the dirty floor.

Wine was right in the middle. Sweet, (not a bad taste) and pleasantly strong. In the earlier weeks of his daily visits a couple of glasses a night would do him well.

(Oh, and how he knew they were laughing, the other patrons, behind his back! Everyone was friendly to each other, certainly, but Toadbert knew his drinking of wine must have been a joke. Only girls drank wine... yes, yes.)

Those thoughts would always come on as he started his night, and Toadbert would hasten to toss back his requisite two glasses to banish the dark thoughts.

Some nights the thoughts would stay with him through the drinks and become a hazy, malignant sore on his mind. He'd drink more to try to get rid of it, to boil himself down to that happy core, and in the process often knock himself out.

"Most people are stupid," The journal's scrawl is angry here, "They drink for fun and delight only, and don't understand the utility of alcohol. Yes, of course it's fun to drink... But beyond that, why should it be so alien to them that it's a way of _life_?!"

Contradictory passages elsewhere in the text suggested he already knew. He already knew what everyone was thinking, at all times, so he fancied. He could detect defeat at every corner, avoided as much conversation as he could for he knew—in advance, evidently so great was his knowledge— that whatever he could say would end in his downfall, a cloud of shame would hang over him, and yet another person in the line of his life would know what a useless freak he was.

He tried inviting an old friend out to drink, but things didn't go so well.

"Hey, Toady." Yoshi greeted amiably. A distinct tension had already grown in the small room, aroused from Toadbert's extended stay in the club.

"Toady," Toadbert chuckled. "Heh heh heh. Toady. Good one. Is that what you call all of us?"

He was already pretty drunk.

Yoshi frowned and sat down. "Sorry, no offense meant. Excuse me, bartender— one Vibe Tea please."

"Oh yeah. Heh heh heh..." Toadbert shook his head darkly, his hand shaking the glass along with it. "I'm just joking. I know you're joking. It's good, funny."

One difficult hour later—

"I'm goin' out of my head," Toadbert raved, "Sitting in that little room, tryin' to make a new time machine, thinking over the blueprints, trying to figure out how that bastard Gadd… Ugh, sitting in that little room, eating goddamn ramen noodles... I can't even imagine the sodiarm...sodium I'm taking in."

Yoshi breathed deeply. "Sounds like you need to go out more."

"Go out more?" Toadbert winced at him. "An' do what?! What should I go out and do?! There's nothing to do!"

He suddenly slammed his fist on the counter, making Yoshi jump slightly from his barstool. The other patrons shot Toadbert dirty looks.

"Wha' the hell do any of you do out there?!" The toad gasped. "I've-a... I've read about... everything. I know every which way it goes, how the circle turns, and I see it doesn't go anywhere! God-DAMN!"

He raised a shaking glass to his mouth and swallowed the shot.

"Are you okay?"

"Do I seem okay?!" Toadbert's eyes widened maddeningly. "How? How? How do you all do it? How do you all live your little lives everyday, without a care in the world? Nothing ever changes... nothing ever changes. Everyday the same thing, doing our little jobs, making some money, working... working towards what?! What's the point?! Why do we do any of it? Why am I the only one who seems to care?!"

Yoshi sighed. "I'm just going to say it: I think you need to get laid."

Toadbert's mouth quivered, and a unnerving grin slowly revealed itself.

"What did you just say? Did you just say I need to get laid?"

"You sound distressed," Yoshi sighed, "You've been thinking too much. I mean, you always have, but..."

"Heh heh heh." Toadbert shook his head. "Ha ha ha. HA! I need to get laid. I need to have _sex_. _Sexual relations._ With a woman."

Yoshi waved his hand. "Or, whichever way you swing..."

"Oh my GOD!" Toadbert's hand jerked wildly, and alcohol splashed out onto the bartop. "You said it! Yes, I knewwww you would! YES!"

The bartender sighed, but didn't say anything. The messy toad was a well-paying customer; his behavior could be tolerated.

"Toadbert, please." Yoshi leaned forward. "Calm down."

"Calm down." Toadbert slurred. "Calm down, he says! What do you think I do all day! I try to calm down. I breathe deeply. In..." He dramatically sucked in some air. "...Out. Haaahhhhh! I'll do it tomorrow, then. Again and again, reset myself. Reset my breathing, but it still doesn't mean anything, this life still has _no point!"_

"Eld," Yoshi sighed, "How long has it been like this?"

Toadbert's face had become completely red. Some other, unspoken, furious idea was spiraling around in his head, waiting to burst out. "How long has it been like this? This is what life is, Yosh. Don't pretend otherwise. Don't pretend!"

"You're drunk."

"No!" The exclamation sounded like a dying ogre shouting its last breath. "This is the real me. This is it. I'm jush... just being honest now. Finally, I am free to speak."

Yoshi stood. "Toadbert, come with me. We need to go."

"This is my home!" Toadbert whined sarcastically. "It's godt everything I need— alcohol, and stools, and... alcohol..."

"Eld," Yoshi sighed. "I'm sorry, man. I can't do this. Come with me now, I'm leaving."

"Why don't you go find me a _woman_?" Toadbert cawed. "That's what I need, isn't it? The primal function of a sentient species, the only thing that matters... One of the only two things that drives us little puppets, along with death! Well, I've had my fill of death, Yo'ster. Maybe you hit it right on the mark. Heh heh heh."

"Alright," Yoshi sighed, "I'm going."

"Sir, are you just going to leave your friend here?" The bartender asked quietly. It was more pleading than an honest question.

"Yeah, that's right," Toadbert cawed. "He's going to leave me. He's not really my friend. He hates me— just like everyone does. Heh heh heh!"

"Stop laughing like that!" Yoshi shouted. "Eld damn it, come here." He moved forward suddenly and grabbed Toadbert's arm. "We're leaving. You need to rest."

"Hmmmuhhh... what kind of rest are we talkin'?" Toadbert slurred. "Short rest, or death kind-of rest?"

The rest was blacked out from Toadbert's memory. When he had woken up he called Yoshi and apologized repeatedly. Yoshi didn't seem too troubled, only wishing to know that Toadbert was okay. Toadbert couldn't handle the increasingly personal conversation without a good drink, so he hung up after a fast goodbye.

He stopped going to the bar. He drank alone, in his apartment, playing the ballerina again and again, imagining how his life would have been different had his parents not been killed.

The perfect form: the ballerina's dance, executed to demonstrate the extent of the sentient's body, from high standing pose to stretched limbs. The arms and legs at precise angles, mathematically perfect... Toadbert actually measured each limb, carefully taking notes, creating endless equations that fell into meaninglessness as they demonstrated the absolute perfection of the figure. Pointing straight up, to the sky, like...

Gadd's invention came to Toadbert's memory. It was known to everyone on Mushroom Castle's advising staff— the nuclear rocket, the bomb.

Something about it attracted him terribly, like a center of gravity. Here he was, a helpless planet, orbiting this great black hole, pit of gravity, spiraling closer and closer. Where was his happy ending? Where else was he to go? No one waiting for him at home, there was no one who really cared about him...

A phone call in the midst of these thoughts sealed the deal.

"Toadbert?" A hurried female voice, "There's an emergency. Queen Peach has gone missing... we need the counsel members to meet..."

"I'm busy!" Toadbert's voice warbled loudly into the phone.

Silence.

"...Are you drunk?"

"Off course I'm drunk!"

Toadbert began to tremble, an unexpected rage falling over him. "What elsh would I be on a Saturday night?"

"...It's Monday."

Toadbert blinked. "So... what? Every night is the exact same, idiot! What else ish there to do but drink?!"

The voice remained silent for a short time, then broke: "You can take tonight off."

"I can take every night off!" Toadbert burst in rage, "Because every day, every time, the princess gets kidnapped again and again and I'm sick of it and I'm done! Every problem in this kingdom comes down to her getting kidnapped, and you know what?!"

The line was silent.

"She's letting him kidnap her, you know that?" Toadbert breathed into the phone. "Every time. You think she couldn't stop him? You think she couldn't scream, and tear her hair out, and let him know it will never work, and that she would rather," He choked, not even sure himself what he was saying now, "She could make it permanent and never be taken again. If she was honest about it all, she would never..." He trailed off.

"I'm going to pretend I heard none of that," The voice replied quietly, "Goodnight, Toadbert."

It was only after the line hung up that Toadbert realized it had been Toadiko.

"I knew that voice sounded familiar," Toadbert chuckled, "Heh heh... heh! Yeah, I bet she really hates me now."

He shivered.

"Good."

He set his little ballerina to spin again, and watched with deep breaths. The next morning he confirmed his decision: he was leaving the advising staff. The others didn't seem too surprised— they had noticed he had been on a downward spiral for years, ever since the time travel attempt.

Ironically, Peach's disappearance had been a misunderstanding, and she was there to see him go.

"This counsel is always open to you, Toadbert," Peach said kindly as he left, "I want you to know that. When you're feeling better..."

"Thank you, Princess... ahem, your highness." Toadbert winced, and imagined a new chain of hatred from the others being thrown around his neck. "I'm sorry it has to be like this."

But he wasn't, really. He recognized his soul as adrift, with little purpose or meaning to its existence. Nothing really meant anything, nothing he did ever lead to anything. As Gadd said, everything was already set into place, predetermined. He was alone, a speck in the wind, and now the wind was blowing elsewhere.

Gadd didn't seem surprised to see Toadbert arrive at his lab. He welcomed the toad, and began training him almost immediately.

"I have to say," Toadbert coughed, "I'm a little surprised you're taking me on so willingly. You, uh... you are making more bombs?"

"I will have the V4 finished by the end of the week," Gadd confirmed in his usual, cheery tone, "And then we will begin the V5."

"Wow, so," Toadbert cleared his throat, "Do you actually expect these to be used?"

"With faith in a rational world, no," Gadd pondered as he looked over a tool set. "Allowing for an accident... perhaps. Physical or emotional."

"So..." Toadbert frowned, "We make these in preparation of an accident, essentially?"

Gadd chuckled and shook his head. "Deterrence, my dear fellow. One of these days, the Koopa Kingdom will get its hands on our kind of weapon here—if they have not already! —and a great stand-off will begin between the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms. It will be a peace like never before... but also of a fear like never before."

"You _expect_ these weapons to fall into the wrong hands?"

Gadd chuckled. "All weapons eventually disperse. There were weapons in the ancient wars that were similarly feared, and though the various city-states tried to prevent their spread, the ancient magicks became commonplace on both continents."

"Everyone knows what happened to the ancient nations," Toadbert scrawled years later, "But they were primitive, foolish, more concerned with honor than rationality. This is a scientific age... what kind of person would actually begin a nuclear confrontation?"

There's a hint of doubt in the writing... something nervous, and excited. It makes the man in the parka, reading the journal, feel sick.

The farther one gets in Toadbert's notebook, the more ballerinas are found scrawled on the inside. For the most part they are small, so that the various rocket notes and physics equations get the focus of the material, but on some pages the ballerinas get bigger, until eventually there are entire pages with storms of ballerinas and rockets, all dancing, twirling, spinning around and around, apparently the two aspects of Toadbert's universe, his yin and yang.

The year 2000: "I was thrown into jail— they think **I** sold the nuclear plans to the Koopa Kingdom. Stupid. At least I have my notebook, and my dancer. Gadd has faith in me, he knows I didn't do it. He'll get me out."

It followed as expected, and Toadbert was released— just as Gadd was put away in his place.

"He didn't do it!" Toadbert yelled as the guards guided the old scientist into his cell. "Neither of us did, you bastards!"

"It will be okay, youngster," Gadd coughed weakly, but brightly, "Head back to the lab and keep working."

Like magic, Gadd was released a week later.

"I knew they couldn't keep you in," Toadbert affirmed. "I... I don't know how it happened. But we're both innocent. We've served the Mushroom Kingdom our entire lives."

"Quite right," Gadd replied, in an odd tone.

"They..." Toadbert stopped and looked closely at Gadd. Something was different about the old man— he might have been a bit shorter, or maybe hunched more. "Are you alright, professor?"

Gadd smiled, and pointed to the V5 rocket in production. "Come, help me with this."

A few months later Gadd fell ill. Refined to a bed, he still insisted on working, having Toadbert bring him small pieces of various material. He sat upright against four stacked pillows and continued to tinker.

"You should rest," Toadbert said nervously, "If you keep straining yourself..."

"To strain absolutely..." Gadd pointed a wrinkled finger in the air, "Is to focus absolutely. And there is no better state of being in the world than focus!"

Toadbert wasn't sure if he agreed, but he knew his spirit wouldn't permit him to disagree with the professor now.

A few days later, Gadd was at the edge of death. Toadbert felt cruel and as hated as he deserved for his lack of tears, but Gadd seemed not to care.

"You were a good assistant," Gadd spoke, "I taught you everything you needed to know, that you could know. You are my inheritor. This lab is entirely yours."

Toadbert nodded silently.

"We finished the V5 together," Gadd sighed, "But its bones were still mine. It will be up to you to create the bones and the flesh of the V6."

The bombs could just keep getting bigger and better.

"I have one last thing to tell you," Gadd rasped, "There's one more thing you need to know. In the sub-basement here, beneath where we store the rockets, that place with no light... Have you seen it?"

Toadbert nodded. "I've looked in. Food storage... a bomb shelter."

"There is another door there, at the back left-corner of the sub-basement. Have you seen that?"

Toadbert imagined the cold of the room and shivered involuntarily, checking himself with some embarrassment. "No."

"There is a special...device there. I don't fully understand it, but... even I was too afraid to test it extensively. If the time ever comes..."

(The man in the parka dropped the book, and went to the abandoned lab's sub-basement.)

(As he expected, there was nothing there.)

Gadd wheezed. "When you know, when you have no choice..."

"What?" Toadbert leaned forward. "I don't understand. What is it?"

"It guarantees nothing," Gadd sniffed. "Do not think of it... until you have no choice."

"Whether it was another experiment being played on me, or..." Much of Toadbert's writing here was scratched out. "It was useless. The old man always had a plan, he was telling me exactly what he wanted to, and I would be able to get nothing more out of him."

Gadd continued to fade away.

"You're wondering why, aren't you?" Gadd's old face looked mischievous all of a sudden, distorted, strangely young. "Why I built all these devices. Young man, you want to know what drove me."

Toadbert had half-way dozed off, and the words shocked him awake. "I..."

"It was my purpose. That was it!" Gadd chuckled weakly. "You don't see it yet, it's taken you longer, but... everyone has a purpose, a distinct place in the universe, an exact task to carry out. Mine was to create, you see?"

Toadbert swallowed. Gadd's talk sounded vaguely religious, and he didn't like it.

"I can see right through you," Gadd smiled, "Get over it, boy! Whether there's a supreme being or not..." (Toadbert flinched at the mention) "...Our minds are wired to become focused. An inherent directive that we are pushed through and towards by everything we do, whether we know it or not. Every piece... adds up."

"Why are you telling me this?" Toadbert gestured around. "This is what I do."

"If you know that in your heart... that this is all you need..." Gadd smiled, "Then this advice is not needed. But if you feel incomplete, your search is not over."

Toadbert said nothing.

Gadd coughed. "Oh... could you... get me a blanket?"

Toadbert nodded. "Happily." He wanted to get away from that conversation... he hadn't liked where it had been going.

He fetched a couple more blankets from a nearby storeroom and made a couple of hot teas as well. By the time he returned, Gadd was laid back on the bed, eyes shut.

"I brought two, just in case..."

"Oh." Gadd's right arm raised a few centimeters. "I will take both."

Toadbert laid the blankets out over Gadd's bed, and the old man sighed contentedly.

"I also made some tea..." Toadbert turned round, cup in hand. "...If you…?"

It seemed Gadd would be fine without tea. He was deep in slumber, and the blankets of the bed hardly rose and fell with his small breaths.

He died overnight. Toadbert found him with his arms crossed, as if he had felt the position was necessary as he entered the lands of the dead.

Toadbert shed a few tears, then burst out completely. When it had passed he went out, melted a frozen patch of ground with a heating device, and quickly buried the old professor before the tundra could whip up again. He marked the ground with a rock he had been eying for sometime, and etched the professor's name into its skin with a fine laser-cutter. He stood for a moment of silence after, but made no prayers: for there was no god he believed in.

Then he returned to the lab.

He let his fears stop him for three days, and then on the fourth, he went down to the sub-basement. It took an hour for him to make his way through the dirty, dark clutter of packaged materials, before finding the trapdoor that Gadd had mentioned in the far back corner of the room, underneath a sturdy cabinet.

It took another two hours to move things so that the cabinet could be pushed out of the way like a forlorn version of that game with the little plastic cars, and the trapdoor could be accessed. The smell of mold and damp already wafting about and sticking to the walls, Toadbert felt some strange apprehension as he reached for the wet, rusted clasp of the door.

It took a fair bit of effort. Putting all of his strength into it, the toad wrenched the handle back and flung the door open, revealing what at first appeared to be a black void.

Then, as his eyes focused, he realized that he was looking at a ground of dirt some five feet below- and that the door was opening into a crawlspace.

"Oh blast," He mumbled distractedly, wiping sweat off of his brow. He had come this far already, hadn't he...?

With not more than a moment's hesitation he lowered himself into the hole, and kneeled down. He turned on his flashlight, expecting to find the entrance to some horrible maze, but saw the object of his search at the first beam: an old trunk, stashed right in a small nook. Now he'd just have to pull it out.

He settled for dragging it up out of the trapdoor, and lying it on the damp cement of the sub-basement. His light flashed and he found that the chest was locked.

"Cripes," He muttered. He fumbled around for a minute, before deciding to just break the lock with a heavy stone that was lying conveniently nearby. The lock, older than Gadd himself had been, practically crumbled with the first hit. The chest creaked, and rotten air slipped out.

"Heh heh..." Toadbert held a shirt up to his nose, "What is this? An invention, or... or…?"

His imagination began to race, and like the determined action to leap into a lake of icy water, Toadbert opened the chest.

Inside was a drum.

Toadbert carefully picked the instrument up and placed it outside onto the floor. The thing seemed so ailing that it hardly mattered if it was placed on the wet floor.

Was it some kind of joke? This was an invention Gadd had been working on?

He reached hesitantly out to the instrument, a dancing anxiety slowly beginning to step through him, raring up for some great movement. What was going on? He had never felt quite like this before, being near this little drum...

He noticed then, attached loosely to the sides by strips of leather, were two drum sticks. He detached them softly, the scratching of the leather giving him a rush of shivers, and held the objects firmly in each hand.

There was something terribly familiar about the consistency of the sticks... White, smooth... ivory, perhaps?

"Something screamed at me to not be stupid," Toadbert wrote, "But at that moment... for the rest of that day, after I put that thing away, and I turned my mind away from it for months to come... I kept being stupid. It was childish... my denial exaggerated how frightening the thing was— a little drum made of skin, and drumsticks made of bone."

Little skeletons became more prevalent throughout the journal from that point forward. Skeletons and bones began to haunt Toadbert's mind, so it seemed.

"It was such an insignificant little item... I was able to focus on the rocket and forget what was buried beneath my lab. But sometimes in my dreams and nightmares I'd hear faint drum-beats… surely just my imagination, my unconscious."

"I'd forget about it when I woke up. I'd forget all about that little drum, and I'd go to work, feeling like I had a bad dream or something."

Thoughts of the drum soon fell to things of larger consequence.

In 2004, the Shroobs initiated their second invasion, commencing the Second Shroob War. Many people died. Toadbert hid away in his lab, trying to avoid the news, but found himself crawling back to the TV again and again. He felt furious at hiding as the Shroobs destroyed his homeland, and felt furious at the Shroobs for returning, even after their defeat some thirty years ago...

"Who is leading them now, I wonder?" Toadbert wrote, angrily again. "A third Shroob sister? Their more powerful brother? Or, if they were princesses, must their be a queen? A king? As long as members of their family are kept alive, those animals will keep coming back, and they will keep killing. I suppose I should be happy no one loves me... they probably would have been blown up by now if they did, knowing my luck."

Toadbert wrote several times to Queen Peach and King Mario, encouraging them to authorize the launch of a nuclear device. He was largely ignored, though Peach sometimes wrote back cheerfully on different subjects, perhaps in some way to soothe him.

Pessimistic and angry, he doubled-down and returned to his work on a new rocket- to finally finish building his own and surpass Gadd. He could make plenty of copies of Gadd's work well enough, but wanted his own.

After two years, he proudly completed the V6, as his little ballerina spun nearby.

A few days later, fate at work, he got a phone call from Queen Peach.

"We need you," She said, desire and venom blended in her voice. Something had changed.

Toadbert's V6 was too powerful for this contained battle, however, and a V3 was chosen to be launched. Only one was needed— it arched out beautifully through the air and slammed down into the Shroob army, killing many millions.

Toadbert smiled to himself and felt satisfied. He felt revenged. He felt proud of his work, and felt there was nothing wrong in it, and all the people who hated and booed him as he participated in the celebratory parade afterward were all the same people who had let him suffer all those years, let him writhe in agony alone, through the early days of his life he would always face away from but feel his unconscious submerged in—

"I am a hero," Toadbert wrote, "And they hate me for it. Well, I hate them too. The 'normal' people... getting whatever they want, and never even realizing it. They don't understand that there's only one thing in this life that really matters, and they breathe it everyday, and feel so proud of themselves for something others fight for for their entire lives..."

He was thirty-eight by that time. He knew he was emotionally stunted, but he couldn't figure the way out, and the more he struggled, the more twisted up he became.

Because of the use of the V3 Rocket, nuclear production rapidly sped up in the Koopa Kingdom, and fear raced across the world. Resultantly, it was decided that many more rockets would be needed in the Mushroom Kingdom, and discussion began on where to center the primary headquarters for rocket production and potential launching, the mountain base now being far too small.

Shortly after the end of the Second Shroob War, a massive, damaged piece of Shroob technology about the size of an aircraft carrier was found floating out in the World Ocean. Theorized to be a former Shroob spaceship, crashed into the water, it resembled a massive purple mushroom in shape, only the cap visible floating above the water.

Claimed quickly by the Mushroom Kingdom, various strange technologies were discovered inside, and the former ship was made the foremost research facility in the Mushroom Kingdom. A tower was built up out of it, and as more scientists came to work, and more avenues of weapon design were explored, the structure climbed higher and higher into the sky. Capable of movement, it made a formidable warship as well, and patrolled all over the World Ocean. A mechanical leviathan reaching up for the sky—

It came to be known as Buoy Base.

Toadbert resisted moving out to the ocean facility, and ultimately decided to continue working on his own in the mountains. Though other teams at Buoy Base would make replicas of Gadd and his V rocket designs, Toadbert continued to make the foremost of rocket technology on his own.

He _knew_ that everyone thought he was a creepy old hermit, living out in the foothills. A bizarre weirdo— a creep who would never have a real life. Well, he knew, rocketry was his real life. He would keep making bombs, bigger and better, forever, and his little ballerina would keep spinning so wonderfully.

Things began to ooze together. Time congealed, and the differing years became meaningless. The emptiness echoed, and the more Toadbert acknowledged his loneliness, the more his fury blazed, and the more he hated the "normal people" of the world.

And then, that tiny twirling light within him would flicker, and he would feel guilt, and shake his head, and say:

"There's something wrong with me, in the end— not the world. I'm poison, somewhere. Deep inside."

And the light would twirl and twirl and spin, and so would the particles, the atoms that crashed and split in the midst of the bombs, the rockets that never went off, the world of weapons that surrounded Toadbert, unlimited ballistic works. The particles, bouncing, like tiny dancers, he imagined in the depths of his work and in his deeper sleep, two, a pair, dancing spinning…

Sometimes he'd wake in a terrible sweat. Sometimes he'd wake up with tears at the edges of his eyes. Sometimes… he'd wake up with the sounds of drums in his ears.

Keep working, that was all he could do. What else was life for? There was nothing else there but the rockets, but the science, but the particles dancing…

He refused invitations to move to Buoy Base, or even to visit it for extended periods. He knew that if he saw other people, especially other people in the midst of relationships, his fury and bitterness and jealousy would go loose again, and mad, unreasonable hatred would consume him, and it would take some time before he could wake up and remember again that _he_ was the illness of the world, not the people all dancing, spinning about him, like perfect planets and particles and heavenly spheres of all kinds in endless orbit…

Somewhere in the depth of this, the V7 was completed. It was a meaningless victory, though Toadbert felt some excitement by it— he invited Yoshi over to see it. 'Rocket Phantasy' he called it, like it was some real advancement. But, it was nothing compared to what he had planned next…

"You're miserable, Toadbert," Yoshi said after. "Anyone can tell. You need someone."

Toadbert chuckled dryly, an echo of fury there. "There were an odd number of people born into this world, Yoshi."

"Toadbert…"

"Lay off it." Toadbert's voice was dangerous, like a threat— if the little scientist was capable of violence at all. His eyes glinted dangerously, and the little flickering fire inside winked out.

Yoshi frowned, and walked away.

"I'm thirty-nine," Toadbert wrote frantically, "It's useless useless useless, idiots! You people… no real pity for the people like me, without a hope... "

Pause for a few pages— rockets.

"There is nothing else for me," Toadbert wrote, "Find your vocation, focus, lose yourself… like Gadd implied… close out the outside world, think not of the emptiness, the cold, the true nature of reality, ha…"

Actually writing out 'ha' was somewhat disconcerting.

And then, nothing happened. Amidst the stifled tears and emptiness, Toadbert made his being vanish. He meditated somehow, and stifled his identity, and finally found a modicum of peace. But the agony persisted somewhere, and…

He continued working on bigger and better rockets, and…

Then, one day, he got a letter from Mushroom Castle.

It was from Prince Lumen Toadstool.

And life seemed to shatter for Toadbert. The slow, drudgy river that had pushed Toadbert on fragmented into pieces, as the date on the letter came into view, and Toadbert remembered the existence of the outside world. Cold and warmth snuck in from the outside, and he put down his wrench. He concentrated on the letter, and tried to understand—

2013.

Something strange had been found in Mushroom Castle's deepest dungeons.

A drum beat echoed in Toadbert's head.

A strange door, in the bottom of Mushroom Castle…

Another drum beat echoed.

He… had to go to the castle.

"A circular room had been unearthed, at the very bottom of Mushroom Castle… made entirely out of white, marble-like brick, a great contrast to the black, oily dungeons that the way through had been found…"

Turn a page.

"Forty meters high. One hundred meter circumference. And the whole thing, all around circling, some of which was even broken through in the process of unearthing this sacred place… were bookshelves."

"Books of unfamiliar design, of all sorts… and in old Shroom, the lingual predecessor to our current tongue. I could hardly read the texts myself, but Prince Lumen had a small knowledge and commented that the books were on all sorts of subjects, every possible thing…"

"But… I was distracted the entire time, for what was in the center of that room, in the central point of all the books… one unearthly pipe reaching up from out of the ground, a dark hole leading to eld-knows-where. Was it even a safe pipe… in that one could use it and be carried along like the pipes Mario used in his adventures, or was it without protective gravity, a straight fall down possibly into the center of the earth? What if something crawled out of it…?"

"I don't know. But the dark hole frightened me, and I couldn't stand being in that room for too long… Though, the prince took some liking to it, running his hands over the books again and again."

Toadbert returned to the mountain base and focused even harder on his works, his mind again plagued by things dark and scary.

In the depths there he completed his masterpiece rocket, and then he fell asleep. He slept for three days, and when he woke, he felt refreshed, if famished.

He also felt certain that if he didn't begin preparations to move to Buoy Base, he'd end it all right there and then.

December 16th, 2014. Toadbert made a call to Mushroom Castle: he was finally willing to move to Buoy Base, and he had a new rocket prepared to come with him.

The mountain base was declared effectively defunct, and was dismantled from the inside over a week's time. As the clutter cleared away, work began in the sub-basement, and the workers sent by Mushroom Castle moved nearer and nearer to the door at the back. Toadbert _knew_ he couldn't let them see the drum… but he didn't know what to do with it.

The obvious answer was to throw it away— in his heart he wanted nothing to do with the thing. At the same time, however, he knew he couldn't. Just as, in some deepest nightmares, a part of him had said it might be for the best if the tiny dancer—

No!

The phone rang in the darkness. Toadbert was bolted out of his fevered sleep, waking in the sleeping bag placed in between the various empty racks that had once held rockets and different machine parts.

December 23rd, 2014.

"Hello? Toadbert here." He put his glasses on and turned a lamp on.

The voice on the other end was familiar, but Toadbert didn't quite recognize it.

"I'm sorry, who is this?"

It was the head of the Mushroom Castle guards, Captain Toad. He explained that the V8 was almost completely installed in Buoy Base, but that a few parts seemed to be missing.

Toadbert sighed, exasperated. Is this what they woke him up for? "I already left notes about this with the machinery. There are three key cards needed to activate the device and enter the configurational launch mode: one is at Buoy Base already, one is with Queen Peach, and I've got one."

Silence on the other end of the line.

"I'll be heading over tomorrow, with the keycard," Toadbert explained, "You can wait until tomorrow to check the configurations, can't you?"

Captain Toad made something akin to a smiling 'hm' sound, and agreed. He thanked Toadbert for his time, and hung up.

Toadbert frowned and laid with his eyes open in the darkness for a few minutes, watching the red light above the exit door glowing nearby, before falling back into sleep.

The next morning, Toadbert had a cold porridge breakfast and then went straight to the sub-basement. He packed the skin-drum in a massive suitcase he had found, and lugged it upstairs to the former main lab. In a few hours, Buoy Base security would pick him up and take him forever away from the mountain.

He headed out back, to take a last look at the view of the valley from outside the lab's rear door, before packing the last of his things.

As he admired the view, a helicopter arrived out front, landing on the distorted trackpad. Three shy guys wrapped in black, scraggly cloaks, and masks without mouths, hopped off, each holding long, shiny knives.

They moved stealthily up to the front door, and lined themselves up against the wall, sides by windows.

The one in front knocked on the door.

Toadbert re-entered the shack moments after the knock, just missing it. He walked up an aisle past the suitcase with the drum. He noticed then that a small item had been left over on a shelf.

The shy guy in front shook his head to the other two.

The one in back nodded.

The one in the middle shivered from the cold.

The matter was settled.

The front shy guy tried the door, and finding it unlocked, threw it open.

Toadbert looked up. "Hello?"

The three cloaked ones shuffled in, knives glinting terribly in the dimmed overhead lights. Heads bent slightly, they quickly scanned the room for any other persons.

"By boogity," Toadbert said faintly, "Wh-who are you?"

Moving slowly he took the lost item off the shelf, the dancer he had finally started to forget, and moved backwards slowly towards the drum in the suitcase.

His heart beat madly, as if to make up for decades lost.

* * *

 **/A/N/: Apologies for the delay, and apologies for more that will probably be coming! Last week I started a new job at a restaurant and on top of school things have been a bit hectic. I'll still be trying my best to bring timely updates, of course!**


	6. 06: SM (Episode Wendy)

Chapter Six: Secret Messages (Episode Wendy)

It's difficult being the only girl among a pack of boys. Contradictory messages from society and the family around turn you around and around, spinning through you a bizarre, sharp thread. To touch thoughtlessly is to be cut…

From the depths of infancy she was as of nature: a force that hungered, that thirsted. A primal Thing, a pure Thing, beyond good and evil— as all infants are.

But then the voices and actions of the taller, older beings of her world turned and shaped her. Society had a plan: she was female, she was implicated as weaker. The idea whispered around her, never quite spoken (not yet), she was dainty and meant to be nice, and…

The movies and the normal people she saw outside the castle could not match her reality. Four older boys, and year after year after her came three younger. All fighting, all tearing, not caring a whim about such a thing as "gender", or what society expected of it— she was tossed into their frays and brought to play and harden and toughen…

She became a strong girl, although attacks from the outside could still surprise and break her down at unexpected times, and she found in her brother Lemmy a protector.

She was ten when she was sent out to fight the Mario brothers for the first time. She felt confident… an unreasonable assurance, not founded from the utility of such a feeling as decided by an older individual, but from an untested, as-yet-unbroken being that felt no fear of failure. The idea that the brothers had beaten her father thrice before was abstract math, meaningless…

Violence! Blood!

Oh, her familial brothers had never hurt her like this. Punched and jumped upon… A world of hurt. The fight was gentle from the Mario Brothers' perspective, in their awkward attempt to minimize their beating of a woman, but that was no comfort to Wendy.

And for what? What was Wendy fighting for? The question begged to be answered as she lay drooling blood. Because the Koopalings' father wasn't satisfied with their mothers? Because his lust knew no bounds? He was a king, a strong ruler who had almost anything he wanted, and still, he would sacrifice the livelihood of his children so that he could reach a little farther, grasp a little farther, ignore the light around him, face the darkness and bring war to two kingdoms—

Wendy awoke, crying.

She had her own room, but still, her hands moved frantically and covered her mouth, and her already red eyes (cursed to demonstrate her weakness) blinked wetly in the darkness. It hadn't been too long since she had lived in one room with all her siblings, and when she had awoken crying there a year ago she had been hounded on.

She was haunted by nightmares the rest of that night of the Marios attacking her, and so she cried in her sleep, without even waking. When the light did peer through her window, and she looked in the mirror, eyes tinged red, she sobbed anew and ran to lock the door to her room. No one could know, no one could know how delicate she was, no…

(Why was so she damned delicate, when she thought she was so strong? She hated herself for this.)

She spent the day inside, looking at the picture books and fairy tales she loved so much. What wondrous worlds they depicted! So fair and fine, where a prince could come and whisk one away, where every problem was solved with a bit of pluck and resolve, where fathers were kind, and if they were not, they could be escaped with a little adventure…

A knock at the door.

"Wendy?" A kindly older voice asked. "Are you in there? It's Kammy."

Wendy let her in, but looked away ashamedly as soon as the older magikoopa had entered.

"Wendy, dearest." Kammy drew her into a hug. "It's okay. You can cry."

"I don't want to." Wendy made out. "I want to be strong."

"Oh." Kammy squeezed her and then let go. "My dear, you are strong. Why, you're only a child! You can cry and be strong!"

Wendy sniffled and moved towards the window. "Everyone makes fun of me when I cry."

"Who's everyone?"

Wendy shook her head.

"You don't give them any listen, Wendy." Kammy shook her head. "You'll be a young lady soon. I'm confident one of these days your father… the King… he'll give up these pursuits of his."

Wendy trembled.

"Wendy, no matter what happens, Eldstar is with you." Kammy looked deep into Wendy's eyes. "You must never forget, you will always be protected."

Eldstar. Wendy was only ten, and had little opinion about the abstract god, who she obediently prayed to but had never really felt.

Wendy and Kammy had a wonderful afternoon together, drinking tea and reading books. Kammy was an amazing person, but the old Magikoopa had much less influence on Bowser than she believed. The very next year, despite Kammy's protests, the Koopalings were made to fight again.

In her castle on Dinosaur Land's Chocolate Island, Wendy took her brother Lemmy's advice and stayed down after Mario struck her. Satisfied, Mario moved on ahead to prepare for the demolition of the castle.

"Come now. You'd better leave." The voice was gentle, as gentle as it could be. Luigi crouched beside Wendy's bruised form, grimacing sadly. "I'm sorry."

Wendy glared up at him, as if to say: "What are you sorry for? You're not the one that hit me."

Luigi hadn't hit her last time either— Mario had been the sole participant of both fights, while Luigi had watched with a hopeless look on his face.

"It's sick," Luigi sighed. "I can't believe Bowser makes his own children fight… even a little girl."

"I'm not…"

Tears began to well up in Wendy's eyes. She brushed them aside angrily with a dirtied arm and stood shakily, glaring directly at the tall human that was kneeling. "I'm not a little girl! I'm a… a woman."

"You're not a woman," Luigi said firmly, in such a tone that there was no arguing back. "And besides, I don't like to see women fighting anyway."

Wendy's balled fists trembled. "Fighting is for men, is that what you're going to say?"

Luigi sighed. "I'd rather not see anyone fight." He shook his head. "Please, you need to leave. Mario is getting ready to destroy this place. Go back home, and… and reason with your father. We don't have to keep doing this."

Wendy backed away and shook her head. "I won't do anything you tell me, you… you bad man."

She backed away some more and then despite her words, turned and ran.

Besides the destruction of her castle, she had to run away from that overwhelming aura of peace and deep sadness that emanated from Luigi, a blend of feeling Wendy had never felt before.

She was a mile out when she heard a tremendous cracking, and turning around watched as her castle crumbled.

The demonstration of power struck her with horror and determination, determination that she would never fight the Mario Bros again— even if her father threatened to strike her.

Which he did, but it mattered little. Most of the koopalings were against their father now, and indeed, they would never fight by his command again.

But, then came the witch.

And Wendy was destroyed, nearly drowned. She slept in coma, occasionally remembering where she was in the dark phantasies of her mind, and wishing that she would never wake up—whether that meant the great night, or drifting lost in colorful phantasies for all time—only, specifically, that she would never have to wake to her father's world again.

The green Mario brother, Luigi, came to her mind often. He always came with a kind, understanding face, exaggerated from his real form. He began to take on all sorts of traits, compiled from the tumbling depths of Wendy's mind. It didn't take very long at all for his appearance to be associated with light and happiness in the mysteriously upside-down world of phantasy.

At first he would just appear in the background of various scenes, smiling, a pulled guess for Wendy who had never seen the man's real, original smile.

Then came dreams of Wendy directly interacting with him, of walking together on one of the Koopa Kingdom's most gorgeous beaches.

The dreams never progressed farther than this, but they installed a deep longing in Wendy's heart. Helpless, hopeless, unbearable, a flame that did not extinguish with the rest of her visions when she awoke a year after her near death, skin paler, body weakened from lack of movement, conscious mind seized in a dark aura.

She ignored her brothers, and went to visit Kammy who had ended up in the hospital after returning from Rogueport with Bowser. The older woman seemed even older than before.

"Wendy!" Kammy gasped. "You're awake."

Wendy smiled silently, and sat beside the bed. She was thirteen, but felt seventy.

"Thank the heavens," Kammy sighed, "Oh. Eldstar must have saved you, Wendy. What a miracle. How blessed."

Wendy explained that she had lost hope several times in her sleep, but had always felt somewhere deep that there was someone there to protect her.

"That was Eldstar!" Kammy smiled. "He is always watching over us, Wendy."

Wendy thought of Luigi in the dream, but she realized there was something else, beyond that… someone watching from somewhere deep, a being of protection. Wendy gasped.

"What is it, dear?"

Wendy shook her head. The pain consuming her entire body wouldn't let her… wouldn't let her make the leap. There was nothing out there, only darkness. She was fooling herself.

On the way out of the hospital, a servant delivered her a letter.

"Someone sent this to you while you were asleep," The servant said almost apologetically, "About a month ago."

It was from Luigi. A general get-well letter, but Wendy read profound significance into it. After all, she thought, no one else had sent her a letter. Happily, she wrote back, and felt the light of her dream flickering again in her heart.

And, wonderfully, Luigi wrote back too.

The letters became Wendy's lifeblood, and a cocoon at the same time. While the rest of the world twisted and turned and writhed in its endless line of disasters and political complications, Wendy read Luigi's letters and wrote to him, back and forth and back and forth, a circle of correspondence, a single chain in her life unbroken. They wrote of their lives, which, while connected to the endless bad news around them, seemed to be of no real concern.

Several times she came close to admitting her feelings for him, but in the end she couldn't do it.

What did Luigi get out of it? Wendy had to wonder sometimes why that extraordinary man would want anything to do with her. She was ugly, and weak, and seemed to be of no use to her father... What a contrast.

But he kept writing back to her. He was lonely too, though whether he had any romantic interest in her was unclear. Sometimes he used the connection to try to get political favors…(maybe that's the wrong term)... Simply, in the name of justice, he tried to get Wendy to talk to her father and change things within the Koopa Kingdom government.

He never tried asking anything like getting the Koopa Kingdom's nukes deactivated. Both Luigi and Wendy knew that it was a new world, and nuclear weapons were permanently a part of it.

One day, Luigi's letters stopped coming. Wendy became frantic— by this point she had mostly shut herself away in her room and never came out, and the weekly letter she could expect from her Mushroom Kingdom penpal was her greatest source of joy.

Word spread to the Koopa Kingdom about three weeks later that Luigi had vanished shortly before the Shroob War began, an awful event that was now tearing across the Mushroom Kingdom.

Luigi's disappearance was such an outrage, such a screaming outcry against Wendy's life that she took the event as a personal attack. Someone out there wanted to crush her.

Her readings had far advanced from the picturebooks of her childhood by this point. There were two genres she enjoyed above all else: one was vast fantasy novels. High-concept, bizarre, inexplicable, sometimes unexplainable… the more obscure and complex the better, for, the more deeply constructed the world, the greater the escape it provided.

The other genre she enjoyed, as she became older, was romance. It gave her more chances to imagine that warm feeling that was so lacking from her life.

Some novels espoused on a theme of dire fate— a heavy shadow that overcame all individuals, it determined the direction of the world and forced all into certain roles. This appealed to Wendy, who felt helplessly trapped.

Shortly after Luigi's disappearance, and shortly before the War of Succession began, Lemmy paid Wendy a visit in her secluded room. He still wore a smile then, and pretended he could solve other peoples problems.

"You gotta get out of here, Wendy. I can see cobwebs."

"No you can't."

Lemmy smiled and shrugged— the joke had not been appreciated. "Are you going to stay in here for the rest of your life?"

Wendy shrugged. "Why not?"

Lemmy gestured to a window covered over with drape. "There's so much to do. Go outside, take walks…"

"...Find a boyfriend." Wendy finished, bitterly. "Maybe such advice is better suited for you."

Lemmy flinched, and then broke out into laughter.

Ironically, his wish that Wendy should leave her room would soon be fulfilled, but in the worst way possible. Their father King Bowser suddenly announced the Succession War, and the Koopa Kingdom tumbled into war. One night, a group of servants loyal to Wendy helped her flee Koopa Castle. Maneuvering through underground passages, Wendy emerged in a church where she became disguised as a nun, then guided further to a temple in the Koopa Kingdom's remote western mountains.

There, poked and prodded by "friends", she was urged to begin her plans of attack— to mount an army to win the war. Wendy resisted. She did not want to attack her siblings. Despite years of bullying, and generally bad feelings, she couldn't imagine trying to kill any members of her family, and it numbed her to hear of the violence and murders that had already been perpetrated.

Whole armies, gathered up by the competing brothers, were going at each other, cutting down and killing without mercy. Koopa Kingdom citizen and Koopa Kingdom citizen, formerly brothers, were now dread enemies.

The bloodshed did not end at the borders of the Koopa Kingdom, however— the whole world seemed to be boiling. In the neighboring Mushroom Kingdom the terrifying alien menace continued its attack without comprehensible reason. In the Beanbean Kingdom anarchy had broken out, as the mad people overthrew the government and began a killing spree.

These events only multiplied Wendy's stress, and she hunkered down even further in the temple she had been hidden away at.

One day she came across the temple's holy book. Forced to leave behind her stories, she turned to the scripture for peace and enjoyment, finding an opening to bliss and outward escape. The stories of guidance and faith began to envelop her heart, and shielded her spiritually from the massacre outside.

She breathed in and dissolved into the faith. The protective force she had felt in her comatose dreams returned, and wrapped its arms around her— and so Wendy became aware of the inexplicably true existence of God.

She began to act seriously as a nun, and delved more and more into the religious texts. The armies put aside for her by her allies groaned and waited, but no order came for them to depart down the mountain and attack.

One night, in concentrated candle-lit study, a knocking came at Wendy's small cell room.

When she answered the door a servant of hers pushed her way in and shut the door behind her. "Princess, you have to leave, now."

Wendy smiled kindly— that certain smile that was driving all of her allies crazy. That smile of "knowing"... knowing what they all believed to be fake.

"Some of the generals have been talking behind your back— princess, they're thinking of killing you and taking control of your forces. They're going to make a grab for the Koopa Kingdom throne themselves." The servant frowned. "You must escape. They could come at any time."

Even here, in the remote mountains, danger and death had found their way to her.

Wendy sighed. "Please be calm. If it is the will of Eldstar... I will perish."

"Princess!" The servant ground her beak. She stared ruefully at the open book on the table. "That garbage has infested your mind. I knew we should not have come here… you're not in a stable state."

Not an hour later she was fleeing through the mountains in horse-and-carriage, along steep mountain cliffs, with rain and thunder pouring down from above. Wendy huddled in her nun's clothing—now far less of a disguise than a truth—and held closely a copy of the Holy Book the head monk had given her. She felt her safety assured.

For the rest of the War, Wendy fled from monastery to monastery, always hiding out as a nun, and fleeing whenever her brothers' armies or her own traitorous armies approached. Her lost forces, led by a young upstart, were soon collapsed and absorbed by Lemmy's militia.

Eventually, after almost the entire land had been taken either by Lemmy or Iggy's forces, Wendy and her allies were surrounded in a north-eastern monastery. Fortunately she found herself captured by Lemmy's army, and was detained within a relatively nice cell in Koopa Castle where Lemmy was headquartered. A short meeting a few days later with the prince confirmed that the siblings' bond had not been lost, even if most of their other siblings had been killed in the war. However, their affection had decreased considerably.

Lemmy was hardened and made cold by the war he had pushed through. He had numbed himself to survive so far, and it was clear just from a glance at his face.

Wendy had wrapped herself in faith, and felt enlightened— and distanced from the world. Her old, childish personality, violently assaulted by the witch's capture of Koopa Castle years ago, was now completely wiped away.

Swearing loyalty to Lemmy, and planning not to participate in any manner at all in the raging war, Wendy was released from her cell after a few weeks, and allowed to wander Koopa Castle. The cold walls of her childhood seemed distant now, part of a physical world that increasingly disinterested and disgusted her. Happily, she did not have to see her father, who had barricaded himself away until the end of the war after the death of Bowser Jr.

After not too much longer Larry was brought under Lemmy's fold, and Iggy was assassinated. The War ended, Lemmy saved Wendy and Larry's lives by refusing to execute them, and things quieted down somewhat. But in the Mushroom Kingdom, the Shroob War continued to escalate, and the Koopa Kingdom's western border was dragged into the conflict as the Shroobs began to set up military bases on Koopa Kingdom soil. The Koopa Kingdom naturally retaliated.

The Shroob War eventually ended, leaving just the Beanbean Kingdom in its own bloody turmoil. It was not terribly important to the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms, which had a renewed Cold War to focus on— especially now that the Mushroom Kingdom had utilized its first nuke, in action against the Shroobs.

Things grew more complicated, with economic deals and alliances spanning the globe, and tensions began to ripple the air like heatwaves. The psychological profiles of the two superpowers' citizens morphed as a tense fear without release took hold.

Wendy found solitude in increasingly esoteric religious texts, beginning to expand into apocrypha and books of other faiths. Connections began to appear, and Wendy felt an odd humming come to her heart. There was some Thing underneath all of these, beyond God's love, some universal secret—

She was a princess with no ruling power, and no interest in other people, no interest in connections— the physical world was a place of suffering and undeserved agonies. Wendy felt there was something better to find in the depths of her religious texts, a grand Secret that would make everything make sense. Yes, God's love was absolute, and the world was his will, but there was a connection to the sentient beings of the world that was missing. Somewhere in the mounds of books and scrolls the answer, or the pieces of the answer were waiting…

After a year or so she realized her work would be faster if she made contact with other religious scholars, more experienced, and she finally began to leave her room in the form of letters, out to other peoples. A vast network was established, and Wendy found herself at the center. It seemed to her that for the other scholars, the work was a hobby. For Wendy, this pursuit was her life— there was nothing else for her.

Her determination, will, and interest sparked the rise of a larger community. She was invited to speak, outside of Koopa Castle, to groups of scholars who were interested in her work. It wasn't just her drive that brought the crowds, but her unique access to rare texts only available in Koopa Castle's private library.

More and more common lay people began to attend her speeches, and it became clear that what was forming around her was a cult— there was no doubt. She knew it, and so did her professional comrades who began to turn away from her in disgust. Wendy ignored them— she felt her power increasing as she riled up the people, and somehow this power involved a closer connection to Heaven and God and the Way of the World. The formation of the community was a key to the salvation and enlightenment she sought. It was not a detractor— and she did not care if it scared other people. It made her excited, a feeling she thought she had lost.

Deep in this new world, it came to her attention later than it would have before that Luigi had returned. It was said that he had been found lost, wandering in the woods, carrying a baby. The news made Wendy's soul glow, and at the same time repulsed her. The idea that Luigi had immaculately returned, without word of where he had gone (Heaven repeatedly occurred to Wendy's mind) elated her. She couldn't say what disgusted her.

She wrote to Luigi eventually, looking to reignite their correspondence, and directly asking him about where he had gone for three years. Luigi wrote back politely, lightly... and without even touching on the subject of his absence. The letter carried a strong sense that further communication was discouraged.

Wendy was infuriated, and quickly bitter. She knew Luigi had had a religious awakening, it was obvious, and even if he hadn't been spirited away to Heaven, he had surely led some sagacious life in the wilderness and must surely have had revelations.

Wendy refused to hate him however. She would hate his sin, his sin of keeping possible salvation from her.

She began to insert references to Luigi into her speeches, and unconsciously felt him watching her as she spoke. This sent fury and energy tumbling into her words, and made her listeners all the more excited, establishing a feed-back loop that sent her sometimes into pure, ecstatic screaming fits of rage.

Eventually, this became most of her life.

One day a follower met her after a speech, carrying a heavy metal box with him. Wendy was not terribly familiar with newer technology, and was not sure what it was.

"It's a radio," The follower explained, "It just looks a bit strange because I modified it— I've got it to catch higher frequencies."

Wendy nodded generally, but still did not know what a radio was.

"Your speeches about the higher voices, Mother," The follower said quietly, using a new name that had circulated from a source unknown among the followers, "I thought it terribly inspirational."

Following a passage in the ancient Koopanisads, Wendy had begun to preach on the concept of "higher voices", a concept she wasn't sure about herself but felt certain held some secret.

"I was thinking an awful lot about that, higher voices," The follower licked his lips nervously, "And I… I had a dream. My radio turned itself on and made all these noises, like squealing…"

"Yes, yes," Wendy nodded, entirely disinterested. "And…?"

"Oh, oh, apologies Mother," The follower nodded, "I… I specialize in radio work, so it wasn't too hard for me, I just hadn't seen a point in it before— the idea of it, of changing the frequency a radio senses at…"

Wendy grimaced. She was about to walk away.

"I, I, I made it high frequency, very high… what the radio could sense," The follower said quickly, almost babbling now, "Higher than probably anyone's ever done—it must be!—and I began to pick up… pick up voices."

Wendy paused.

"Like, like whispering," The follower gestured, meaninglessly, "But sometimes, like whistling, and sometimes like shrieking." He shrugged. "But I, I don't understand any of it. It is not of our language."

"You say it is at high frequencies?"

"Yes," The follower nodded, "Yes, Mother, I thought it might be best if you…"

The follower needed say no more— Wendy firmly took hold of the box, and after a slight tug, got the follower to wordlessly release the device.

She paused. "Show me how this works."

The follower demonstrated right there, twisting various knobs and dials, but after a pause in the ensuing silence explained that the noises only occurred after midnight, and then until 4 AM.

The darkest hours of the night, Wendy couldn't help but think.

She took the radio back to her room, but did not touch it again. She had more texts to decipher, more mysteries to uncover. She didn't really believe that a box of metal could provide any of the world-truths she was seeking.

Predictably, a few weeks later, after a particularly exciting search through a piece of apocryphal material revealed yet another dead-end (Or was it?—whispers a wall) Wendy turned to the strange radio machine and began to work with it.

Sure enough, after some tampering a high-pitched squealing arose from the box, sending shivers running through Wendy's body. She put a hand over the metal carapace and rubbed it vaguely, breathing deeply. She scrolled through higher frequencies, and found the strange squealing message sustained, echoing throughout the room. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

She played with it on-and-off for the rest of the night, until at 4 AM—as the follower said—the sounds waned away. Left alone in the silence, Wendy ran to her desk and began to scribble furious notes, letting the scratching replace the uneasy lack of sound.

The next night she tuned in again, and found the sounds to be even clearer than the previous night. Their tone was different tonight, too— a different message?

As she continued to listen to the sounds, which became clearer and clearer over the next week, she struggled internally. Was this spiritually significant? Did this really have anything to do with the religious texts, the ancient secrets? How could some new technology bare holy power?

But God was eternal, and his being in the form of the Godhead was ever present, all around. Why couldn't a radio message be the key to everything? God was everywhere, God was every time…

Wendy stopped giving speeches to her followers, and stopped collaborating with the other religious scholars. She didn't need them anymore. All she needed was the radio, which whined and winnied and made spinning sounds and warbled and cried and hissed and moaned and echoed tones that poked all over Wendy's heart, underneath it all in a strange cascade of feelings that she was sure she had never felt but were nostalgic all the same.

Notes, notes, notes, endless notes and sounds! A journal—then two journals—dedicated to the noises. In order to more deeply understand she began to study the science of sound, and recorded great specifics on the wavelengths, durations, and pitch of the sounds.

She uncovered a number of things after some five months of study: that the sounds became clearer the fuller the moon was, that they were a looped series of sounds for the most part, (with some new sounds interrupting every so often!) and… little else of meaning.

Wendy seemed at a standstill. She was making no headway on actually translating the sounds, and none of the many sacred texts she had read gave any real hints to the nature of the code.

Then, it occurred to her it might be possible to trace the source of the sounds...assuming they didn't come straight from Heaven.

Of course, there was plenty of Cold War radio technology available. She found a servant to discreetly help her set up the technology, and in late November of 2014 she staked out the source.

"There are actually two sources," The follower recounted, "One… one comes from a location three hundred miles west of here. The other," He looked up, "Seems to be coming from above. It's harder to calculate precisely…"

 _From Heaven_ — Wendy's mind stirred and tumbled. She shook, and trembled, at the thought that _something was actually happening_. God, who was with her at all times, now truly seemed closer than ever before. Was it possible, could he have a physical manifestation on the Earth…?

"Three hundred miles west of here," Wendy repeated.

The idea of the Axis Mundi crystallized in her head, the world axis, world connection to the Heavens, to God, the umbilical cord of existence manifest in the Earth, all mentioned in the Avestar. If one signal came from above, and the other came from the Earth, this could be the real Axis Mundi. "Get a map."

The follower spread a map out obediently, visibly becoming excited himself. They calculated and traced the distance and found the source-point they were looking for.

Beyond the mountains that Wendy had escaped to in the midst of the Succession War years ago, a place that echoed familiar.

"The Valley of the Lilies," She whispered.

She rushed back to her scrolls, her books, searching. She found it: a recording of a recording of a recording of a recording, one of the most ancient texts of her collection, the Avestar. It told of the Sky's Cradle, a most sacred place where spirits wandered. Wendy had realized the reference was to the modern Valley of the Lilies, and ever since Wendy had kept the idea of a pilgrimage (or at least a research trip) in the back of her head.

Now it had to happen.

"Incredible," The follower gasped, "The Valley of the Lilies! My grandparents came from the northern part of the region, before the lake was lost to the Mushroom Kingdom."

The Valley of the Lilies was indeed a long disputed territory between the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms, and in the present year was divided about in half between the two nations.

"This is amazing!" The follower babbled on, "We ought to make a grand pilgrimage of this, get all the followers together…"

"No." Wendy said firmly. "We won't tell anyone about this."

"No?" The follower stared wide-eyed.

"No." Wendy confirmed. "Just the two of us will be going. Straight there, tomorrow."

The follower beamed.

"We'll leave quickly and immediately," Wendy continued, quietly, "You'll need to stay overnight here, in the castle."

It was almost midnight. The pair turned the radio on and listened to the sounds again, and felt their excitement growing. Neither slept at all that night, and they left at the first appearance of the dawn. Wendy still had access to a small airship that she had loved as a child, but had not used in years. After a few shaky moments, the machine rose and set off, with the rising sun behind.

* * *

 **/N/A/: I don't have a good excuse for my absence, so I'll just offer my general apologies. Thank you for your magnificent patience.**


	7. 07: SI (Episode Sola)

Chapter Seven: Suns Irrupt (Episode Sola)

A shining, a shining, a shining light from above, bright bright bright eye eye eye brilliant! Brilliant! Catastrophic sing-song song of love song of light song of secret song of bright bright pouring magma lava cold ice river flow down down the cave flow bloody eye gone loss song

Sola Toadstool was seven years old when she lost the vision in her left eye. Pursuing a group of bullies that had gone after her brother, she journeyed into the depths of the Toad Town slums and avoided several grotesque locales before finding the gang she had been looking for.

She was promptly strapped down, and interrogated.

It did not seem to occur to Sola to wonder how her brother, the same age as her, had ended up in connection with such a group of people. With brilliant love and duty she felt faith in his actions, and that whatever had happened, he had not deserved the limp he would carry for the next year.

He owed them money, so he told her. How a seven-year-old could owe money to a gang was another question that Sola had little interest in.

At least part of the answer resided in that this gang he had ended up in some connection with was made up of children.

"Where else can an orphan go?" A thirteen-year-old koopa girl with a scar across her face leaned forward against the back of a chair turned 180 degrees, watching Sola with a dire look on her face.

"An orphanage." Sola answered.

"You live in a cartoon." The koopa girl answered, "Upper class pig. You can't begin to imagine this life."

"I see it right now." Sola replied.

The koopa scoffed. "You don't see anything."

"Why are you talking to me?"

The koopa girl sighed. "Thought I might keep you company. You'll be here for a few hours more, at least."

Sola said nothing, but looked straight up at the bright blue sky that was still visible through the crack of dreary, leaning apartments.

"You're not really that afraid, are you?" The koopa girl got up off the chair. "You're trembling a little, sure, who wouldn't, but…" She leaned down, face-to-face with Sola, "Any other little girl would be bawling her eyes out right now, I'd reckon."

Sola said nothing.

"Somethin' real nice must have happened to you, to make you so bloody tough." The koopa sighed, "Yikes. You're invading our territory, but I gotta feel sorry for someone as bent and hardened as you, at such a young age."

Sola closed her eyes.

"I figure it's something with your parents," The koopa smirked, "Whenever a kid is really messed up they're either an orphan or their parents did em' wrong. That's been my experience."

"My parents love me, and I love them," Sola replied, "There's nothing else to it."

The koopa rolled her eyes. "You're just a plain hero, then?"

Sola opened her eyes again.

Her imprisonment was punishment for trespassing in the gang's territory, something that happened not-too-unoften. Sola would be free to go after being questioned on her motives.

But when the time came she refused to leave: she came to get her brother's debt cancelled, erased.

She was set up in a chair opposite of the boss, untied, left alone.

"No go," Said the boss, a goomba with an eyepatch and an unnervingly friendly demeanor. "I know exactly who you two are. Sola and Lumen Toadstool, children of the King and Queen. I can't pass this opportunity for money up."

"You're not afraid of having an army sent after you?"

"Indeed, no," The boss grinned, his green lips stretching, "I already know neither of you would tell your parents about all of this."

Sola's heart caught in its beat.

"Children quite befitting the King and Queen." The boss sighed, "Pride and power immeasurable. Your parents have already sculpted this world. For you to give them further control, despite your love for them, is out of the question."

Sola nodded. "Fine. That is right."

The boss shook his head. "You hardly seem like children at all. You, like a little statue. Though, eh, maybe this is just your mode of business? To be frank, I only took an interest in your brother to see if I could deface the work of our societal artists above."

Sola's fist tightened. "You planned to maim my brother?"

"No no no no," The boss waved a hand, "An economic and emotional scarring, merely. To leave an imprint on his young mind of the darkness in the streets below your fairy tale castle, and to extract a bit of cash in the process. He's much softer than you, you know. He cried when I brought him here."

"I don't follow what you're trying to do, and I don't care." Sola's glare was steady. "I'm just telling you this ends here, now."

"You really aren't like a seven-year-old girl at all," The boss frowned, "You're scary."

"Do you understand me?" Sola asked, "It ends now."

"You child," The boss suddenly hissed, defensively. "Hold a minute now. Your brother does indeed owe money… and a transaction must be paid. This is not merely a child's game— a real deal was struck. If he will not return here, you must pay out the deal now."

"Oh?"

"I can't leave you with only a mental imprint— something has already poured your focus and crushed it into a compact perfection," The boss sighed, "But I can leave you with a physical effect, something that will whisper echoes into your heart and change you in secret."

The determination of his words struck her. Sola turned to run, but it was too late. Two boys grabbed her and forced her down, and in a moment the boss was standing overhead, a shard of glass in his hand.

"What are you doing?!" Sola gagged.

"Behold the light, that purity your mother and father named you after," The boss crouched down and held the glass over her left eye. "Look into the eye above."

He ordered a third person to hold her left eye open. She cried out as a beam of distilled, piercing light burned down directly into her eye, castrating her vision.

"A child, even one as tart as you, cannot yet appreciate the power of echoes," The boss sighed, "How the events of childhood, the earlier the greater, recur endlessly forward in life."

 _(bright bright bright eye eye eye brilliant!)_

All-in-all, the light did not hurt so much after the first minute.

A large black spot formed in her left eye, appearing like a faded outline with both eyes open— a ring of darkness. Her parents did not find out for days, and she insisted on its nature as an accident.

Her willpower was too great to speak of what had really happened. Her life was already shackled to her parents, their legacy, and their kingdom— this secret, kept even in a vengeful anger, was a kind of treasure.

It was not as if she let the criminals go without proper justice. She trained for a little over a year after the incident, and the day after her ninth birthday dived back into the gang's territory and dismantled their entire operation through precise force. The boss escaped to the Beanbean Kingdom, where he was killed in a shooting perpetrated by a rival.

Because none of the actual economic difficulties of the city were changed, a new gang formed up half a year after Sola's dismantling.

But it was the best she could do, young and without political power. And she was satisfied— for she had avenged her brother and herself.

Over the years she slowly edged out her brother as the future ruler of the kingdom, and began to be trained in the political arts. Lumen, for his part, seemed to have no real objections— he kept to himself, making his little films. Sola privately considered him emotionally weak, and that it was probably his rightful place to be an artist ...whatever that meant.

It was not as if she lacked fun herself— she enjoyed acting occasionally in his films, and she enjoyed playing piano, which she had had lessons in from an early age. Despite the consistently rigorous and bright appearance she learned to wear, she tended to find herself playing melancholic tunes on her piano, and the observation sometimes put her off playing for a time.

At the age of thirteen she accompanied her father to the first END conference, where nuclear disarmament was discussed seriously for the first time. The results were pitiful. Sola mostly observed, recognizing that the full meaning and consequences of nuclear activities was still outside her realm of understanding.

Sola was terribly popular, both because of her personality and position as future ruler of the kingdom. It saddened her that her brother was so shut away, and seemed to have no friends, but she reasoned that if the condition really bothered him he'd leave his room and his films and go interact with others.

One day, in February of 2014, Sola hosted a great ball at Mushroom Castle. There had not been a ball at the Castle for over ten years, as the King did not seem to like them, but Sola thought they would be a delightful tradition to bring back.

She was nineteen, and dazzling, and the center of everyone's focus. It seemed like the entire great hall that the ball took place in radiated around her constantly, no matter where she was— like concentric rings echoing out.

Suitors approached her, and she kept track in her head of who was of interest.

Late in the night, among the last few hours of the ball—near 11 PM—someone especially interesting appeared.

It was not that he was attractive, but that he was startlingly ordinary- a human with the plainest face she had ever seen. His outfit was perfectly stylish, with top hat and carefully furnished black suit, but his face was so incredibly plain and nondescript that it seemed like a mask to her.

As he approached, and in the proper formalities asked for a dance (which she accepted, entranced by the mysterious form-and-void of the person) she could see that the face that looked at her with polite desire was indeed flesh and real.

"I am very happy you do me the honor of a dance," The stranger said stiltedly.

They gripped hands and began a waltz.

"It's a rather late hour, and I'd greeted most of the suitors here…" She said slowly.

"I was unfortunately late," The man explained, "I overslept."

Sola turned her head and looked at him out of the side of her eye. Was that a joke?

"Sir, if I may ask, who you are…?" Sola asked ponderously. She had never seen him before.

"A whisper of the night. A short breath on the wind that will dissipate with the dawn."

Sola frowned. "A poor poet?"

The man scoffed. "Why do I have to be poor?"

"All poets are poor," Sola replied, "These days, our country has no respect for the artist, or at least, the poet. I'd guess you spent the last of your money on that suit."

"What cruel words!" The man gagged humorously. "You might be right. I'm a fair fan of the ballroom. One of the last arts the people dain to appreciate… besides those dreadful films."

He sighed. "If it wasn't for dancing I doubt I'd ever leave my halls."

Sola did a turn. "Care to give me a name?"

"I'd rather not," the man shrugged.

"How far do you think a dance with the crown princess will go if you won't even give your name?"

"Far enough." With a snap of his wrist the man threw Sola out in a loop, extending her arm fully and sending her balancing on one leg opposite from him. If nothing else, the man was an accomplished dancer.

Then, when her balance was assured and the entire room, as if in a balancing act, looked toward the posing dancers, the man let go. He nodded stiffly, poorly contrasted with his liquid dance, and moved for the door to the outside.

Sola watched him go. A slight murmuring trickled around the room, but none of it was negative towards Sola. It seemed she could do no wrong.

She took advantage of this the next day to bring a proposal to her parents.

"I want to host more balls." She announced.

Her father Mario shrugged— he cared little. He had done his one ceremonial dance with Peach and had surprisingly not hated it. Besides, more and more often it seemed that some days he was more absent minded, distanced like he was floating away.

Her mother Peach smiled thinly her eyes crinkling— with love, along with a less pleasant but barely detectable condescension. "You like the balls? You _were_ quite popular last night."

Sola brushed aside the comment. "I'm serious. I think it does the kingdom a great deal of good in these times… a great stress reliever."

"Hm." Peach crossed her arms, looked over to Mario, and looked back to Sola. "Is that correct? I can't necessarily say you're wrong. ...It was a fine night."

"It," Mario sighed and assembled his thoughts, "It's only large enough for the aristocrats of the kingdom. If it's to help the kingdom… what about the people below?"

"Okay," Sola gestured dismissively, "We can have multiple kinds of balls. One in the castle, one out in the town square. I doubt the… people outside would be interested, however. I imagine they'd rather watch movies."

"Balls are notoriously old fashioned," Mario added, "I don't doubt you're wrong about the lower-class people being disinterested… I suggest the idea politically."

"With what is happening in Beanbean…" Peach's tone was terribly bitter, "Some of the common people will take any excuse they can to attempt a revolution. Just by having a ball they might consider it a flaunting of our wealth."

"So we'll set up a second ball that no one will probably go to." Sola said dryly.

So they did. And in fact, many Toad Town people did come out to the poorer ball and danced happily, to less "distinguished" but merrier tunes. The time that was had was so good that balls came back into fashion the whole kingdom over.

When the time for second ball came around, Sola spent the entire night unconsciously waiting for one person.

He never came, however, and Sola found it hard to disguise her disappointment. Her parents shared knowing looks, and as pre-planned a third ball was thrown just a few weeks later.

 _That_ night he came again, again around 11, near the end of the event. Wearing the same suit, walking with the same gait— but something had changed. It was something little, something miniscule, hard to make out without intense concentration, which Sola was not rude enough to do: to look deeply at her dancing partners face, and notice what had changed.

Was his mouth a little bigger? An eye a little wider? Nose a little shorter?

"Good evening again, Madame Sola." The man smiled. "How fare you this fine evening?"

"Are you trying to impress me with those high words?"

The man gestured around. "It's a ball, is it not? Are my words not appropriate?" He cocked his head. "My words are not the issue here. You're angry."

"I am not angry." Sola replied. "I remain confused, however, on why you did not attend the last ball."

"You're playing your cards too easily," The man sighed, "Did you throw the ball just for me?"

She pulled him wordlessly into a dance. The manuever seemed to surprise him.

"To tell the truth, Madame," He smiled, "I overslept."

"Is that the honest answer?" She paused. "And when exactly, are you usually active?"

"I often find myself in the service of the moon. But more often, now, it seems I find myself in the radiance of the sun."

The dance continued in silence.

Sola grimaced. "I won't dance with you again if you don't tell me your name."

"Rho."

"Lying is terribly unattractive."

Rho chuckled. "That name is all I can feel. When I think of 'name' I seem to fall into a deep sea without meaning. A single letter comes to my mind, a paintbrush I can wield to establish a nominer."

"You are a miserable poet." Sola shook her head. "I can't believe I'm listening to this. I can't believe I'm dancing with such a ghost."

"Is that how I strike you?"

Sola blinked, and felt like a rug had just been pulled out from beneath her feet. The lights of the candles around her brightened and dimmed in a flicker, and she comRhoed herself to look at her dancing partner, whose face had changed and was not so plain any more.

An eyebrow… one of the eyebrows was a little higher than before, not in expression, but in set actuality.

Rho's expression was serious, if not without humor.

"I think it's time for me to leave."

He withdrew from her, and headed towards the exit.

There were no balls for a month after. Rho's out-of-place eyebrow returned to Sola's memory every so often. It did not create a real disturbance in her mind, but was just light enough and real enough to float beneath her conscious, like a pool of oil.

She turned away from the mystery and focused on her political life— and the various aspirations she had for when she became queen. World peace? Well, that was a childish dream that she'd had to put away a long time ago… but a general ambition to make the world a better place flared in her heart.

An ideal of continual process, extending from the beginning of civilization— a world made increasingly better for its inhabitants. In modern times this meant focus on the development of technology, healthcare, and agriculture. Hunger could be ended. The environment, increasingly degraded by toxic technologies, could be protected. People's lives could be extended, for many more years.

"Those are all wonderful ideas," Peach had said a few years before, carefully, "But first and foremost is the stability of the state. The Mushroom Kingdom is in a precarious position."

"We're one of the world's two foremost powers, aren't we?" Sola had asked innocently.

"We're a hegemon," Peach replied, "And with the greatest power comes the greatest danger. We hold our side of the world in line, in structure, while the Koopa Kingdom does the same with theirs. Do you know how many of our allies, if given the chance, would stab us in the back and take our place as world leader?"

Sola shook her head.

Peach smiled bitterly. "All of life is a game of powers, sweet Sola. What is a relationship but a balancing of powers, between a stronger force and a weaker force? The Mushroom Kingdom is the stronger force, while Sarasaland is the weaker. The two rely on each other for existence, for their most always be at least a pair. But the weaker force always craves to be the stronger, or to at least exert control over the stronger."

Sola was stunned— by the contents of the lecture, and the emotion that her normally peaceable mother spoke of it.

"This is why," Peach continued more quietly, "You are the heir to the Mushroom Kingdom throne, rather than Lumen. You are the stronger force, and he the weaker. For the stronger domain of hegemon the stronger person is needed."

It sounded so simple, but it didn't seem that way to Sola. She didn't feel like Lumen was just simply "a weaker force". By one viewpoint, he was the one who had assigned the two of them to their places, since he had originally been crown prince and had chosen to devote himself to film-making.

...Then again, she had accepted the role as crown princess, when she too could have refused, so…

No, this was all useless conjecture. She couldn't really disobey her parents. Someone had to be heir.

And really, Sola was happy to be heir. She had always felt in her heart a higher calling, a desire to send chimes ringing around the world— to make something of herself. It was a necessity, practically a responsibility, for the child of the soldier-hero Mario and the high queen Peach…

Her wounded eye would not stop her. In fact, it had hardened her resolve considerably. To know such miserable creatures existed beneath the castle gates, cruel enough to do such a thing to a child, the world must truly have been in a troubled state. There had to be something she could do, some contribution she could make. Naturally, she had to make things better…

Lumen would tell her that she was trying too hard. That she needed to relax. But he was one to talk… even if his aims weren't political, his drive for art was perhaps even more desperate than her aims. Practically hiding away from the world, preparing some grand statement maybe, meditating in the dark of his private film studio to find a perfect message, a great revelation for the world. Or something. Was that his way of channeling his ambition?

Despite her political training, Sola couldn't keep her thoughts away from the phantom Rho, and she began to host balls again.

Rho skipped the next ball, showing up at the one after that.

"Did I keep you waiting?"

Sola frowned. "So you are doing this on purpose?"

Rho shook his head. "No. I'm not sure I do anything on purpose. I think I only come up with excuses for what I do after I do it."

Sola pulled him into a dance. "Don't say that. You sound like nothing more than a free-floating feather when you talk like that."

"Hmm." Rho's smile, clearly wider than the last time he had come to the ball, turned in a slight smirk. "A feather, a turn of air... Sola, what would you think if I _was_ a ghost?"

"Like a boo?"

Rho shook his head. "No, no. Like a human ghost. Or maybe a ghost of the world."

"I'm a realistic person, Rho," Sola set her lips, "I refuse to have stupid conversations like this. ...Unless, of course, you are actually a ghost."

One could never be sure in that world.

"Then we could talk about how rude it is of me to haunt your ball?"

"Right."

She looked into his face for a brief moment, then away. It was easy for her to be straight-forward, but she was finding it hard to ask about his morphing face. She felt like some curtain would come falling down and the story— whatever that was— would end.

What did they talk about? The outside world. Sola. Nature. Just about anything but Rho. He clearly did not want to talk about himself, or at any rate, couldn't. Sola knew something would happen if she forced the issue, and she wasn't confident she wanted something to happen.

The balls continued. Rho now came every time, his face a little different every month, gradually becoming more and more handsome. Despite the physical changes, underneath he remained a strange, flimsy, but vaguely charming character.

Some irony clashed, and Sola decided it was time to confront the issue. October 31st would be the largest ball yet, Halloween-themed. She would confront Rho on his nature on the spooky holiday. If he refused and ran away, she'd give up on him. If he answered— the dance would continue.

* * *

 **/A/N/: Sola's chapter is not as extensive as I originally wanted it to be, but at this point I just want to get this story out at a decent quality and a decent pace.**


	8. 08: MS (Episode Bowser)

Chapter Eight: Mein Schatz (Episode Bowser)

It was a part of Bowser's curse that it would not be until his final month alive that he would finally keep Peach out of his mind.

His failings in life were many— the state of his kingdom ailing for much of his time of rule, his personal morality degraded from a lifetime of cruel actions. His actions were a series of points of shadow punching into the darkness, looking for meaning and relief. What was there for him?

It all centered on a single person, so he could wrap all of his meaning and desire to a single other person, elevated to an ideal that did not exist in reality— a paragon of perfection, an idol, a god made manifest on earth cleaved from real personality, a center point that reality bent around like a string around a nail holding up a picture.

If he had ever stopped and really thought about it, meditated, he would have realized his entire existence was this. This. To look through the glass and almost never cross it, into a brighter world that seemed to exist for everyone but him, a world where his was the only unhappy ending in a storybook of smiley tales— he and his alone was a wrenching tale of pain and despair and (the part that was unique, for the other parts part of everyone's reality, he could admit) he alone was _allowed no happy ending._

A skirmishing struggle inside.

His parents died before he could remember. He was raised by the royal adviser Kamek, the essential father figure in his life. Essentially a weak-willed flash of nothing— Bowser had control over him even from infancy.

There was no mother figure, and Bowser's world was darkness, until his earliest memories at the age of two: when the Shroobs came to Earth, and Bowser witnessed _her_ : the tall, fair-haired woman who stepped out of the machine and faced the great alien menace, gleaming jewel star held aloft, a demonstration of such power and absolute existence that Bowser first then became aware that _another_ existed, that the world was not just him… but that he was an Ego, a person, and outside, there was _her_ …!

The context of this moment, how he happened to be there, escaped him. The specifics did not matter: the woman he saw that day was captured by the alien forces, and he did not see her again. He assumed her dead, a captured prisoner, killed. And when he realized this, that she must have been dead, he thought no longer of her. His life continued on in a relatively normal state for orphaned royalty— with the faint outline of a sun somewhere in his mind, of a Love.

The Koopa Kingdom was weak in the years that Bowser grew up, and much policy focused on internal affairs, attempts to bring the nation back to its former glory. Kamek made most of the decisions, and slowly eased Bowser (who was not naturally skilled at politics) into his role as king. It was only when Bowser had become a young adult that he was first allowed into the stage of international politics— and when he saw Her again.

It was 1984. Bowser saw a younger Princess Peach, and recognized her as the light he had seen all those years ago. Her appearance at the international conference, so similar to the glimpse he had seen as an infant, was incomprehensible.

(The logic of the matter was not too important to him anyway.)

The rush of reverence and lust that came crashing down upon him brought him nearly to hysterics. To confirm, to return to— to know that indeed such perfection existed, that it hadn't been merely a dream… that the gift, the promise, _did_ exist! Hope existed.

There was something beyond the intricate shadows of the world, there was a smooth light.

They met. She didn't like him. He captured her. 1985. Mario. Defeat. Loss of the idol, the light.

Darkness. Fury. Agony.

Who was Mario? He was no one. How dare he… enter onto the stage, and steal Bowser's love? How could he, how dare he, bastard, bastard…

So Bowser would kidnap her again and again and again, until his victory was assured. That was his plan— that he could never give up on the light, for if he turned away from that light, there would be nothing to live for again, and as long as the light existed he had a focal point, a direction, a reason to keep going…

Agony! He had children, born from concubines, all the way back to when Bowser was ten. He would agree it was disgusting— but that was the ways of monarchy. He bore the children out of necessity, for heirs, but he didn't care about any of them… except the last.

No, even that child… There was only one thing Bowser really loved, one thing he cared about. It twisted everything up inside of him, twisted and crumpled the entire world, twisted and circled all around her, all funneled, pointing straight to her, all around, eyes on her, Oh God-!

Bowser wasn't smart enough to understand that it was all in his mind, that these feelings were not true reality.

Or maybe he did know, and he believed that his reality was the only reality that actually existed. Could he believe that? It seemed so. Maybe it was true. _Cogito ergo sum_ , etc.

FIRST CAPTURE, 1985: FAILURE

In 1986 he stole her again, and got very close to her, and attempted to cajole her into intercourse. But she wasn't interested. And he wasn't depraved enough to force her. No, he couldn't bear despoiling the idol— to force it would be to destroy its purity. All he could do was watch her, and pretend to talk to her, and wait for that fat Mario to come back and save her again.

SECOND CAPTURE, 1986: FAILURE

Well. Then followed a messy time in the Koopa Kingdom, and Bowser had to turn away from his captures. That was okay— he felt discouraged, and needed time to rejuvenate, to be brave and come back to try to capture the treasure again. He spent some time preparing, and three years after the second capture, in 1989, he pulled off a complex and ingenious maneuver by planting a castle underneath hers (the details of this story are too ridiculous and overcomplicated to tell here, etc.) so that her castle was lifted up into the sky, and Mario seemed to be defeated and tossed out of the flying castle, and, and…

So now, with the whole rest of the world torn away, he thought they would bed.

Every night, when Bowser came to her, determined to get her to love him, Peach prepared a story. She would tell the tale (so fascinating!) until Bowser had fallen asleep, and woke the next morning with magical work to do, to keep the castle floating. And Peach would continue the same story that night, and in that way keep him from ever coming to bed with her—

Who knew she had so many stories?

And so she distracted him, until Mario came, and ended things again.

THIRD CAPTURE, 1989: FAILURE

The next year he sent his children out to fight. One could go on about how guilty he felt sending children-his own!-out to the battlefield, but it would be largely meaningless words. For, he would do it a thousand times if he thought that it would help him get closer to the light.

Which, in 1990, he came closer than ever before. Something had changed, and the princess had been more willing to draw near to him, to _touch_ him, to come close and...

Yes, it happened. Once. A singularity, tiny binding moment— the small passage that the sand of the hourglass slipped through, drudging from one great dismal space to another, piled up time passing beyond the start and the end: the JOURNEY, the contents, gone in a moment—

But that was just what it was, a moment. And the princess's cold resumed after. Even colder than before, in fact.

And Mario still came after all, valiant and noble and without a hint of knowledge of what had happened, and saved his princess, who broke sobbing into his arms.

Bowser lay at the bottom of a pit he himself had smashed open attempting to crush Mario. How sad, but then again, he had achieved some sort of victory, hadn't he?

But that had been a moment, and now Peach, the light, was gone again. At least they had a good memory together now.

FOURTH CAPTURE, 1990: FAILURE

Maybe she did love him now, he reasoned. So he set out ahead of time and set up a secret base on the popular vacation islands of Dinosaur Land, and captured her as soon as she arrived.

She remained distant, and screamed if he came near her. He thought he'd just give it some time, and she'd get over herself, but a month went by and Mario came, and—

FIFTH CAPTURE, 1991: FAILURE

During all of this, Bowser continued to leave most decisions regarding the Koopa Kingdom to Kamek and then Kammy Koopa. The bureaucrats could deal with the politics, he had a light to capture.

Then the very next year the whole disaster with the Beanbean witch occurred. Bowser didn't remember the incident very well (besides being another attempt to capture Peach) and finding out that her voice had been stolen.

When he woke up months later he found his castle was gone, and his children badly wounded— one even near death.

Meaningless. Where was the light?

In the darkness of his self-loathing heart he decided to chalk it up as another capture attempt, so that he could add another failure to his record.

SIXTH CAPTURE, 1992: FAILURE

But that wasn't a real capture attempt, and everyone knew it. His pride demanded he try again that same year, moving straight into Peach's castle.

SEVENTH CAPTURE, 1992: FAILURE

The year after, Peach was captured by the X-Nauts, a bizarre group based on the moon. Bowser tried his best, but he was beaten again. He couldn't call it a capture— but it was a failure.

"Daddy," Bowser Jr. had interjected, somewhere (a memory of him at least), "You're a king, the strongest, coolest, best guy I know! You don't need that dumb princess!"

This was after Bowser had revealed Peach was not his mother... a considerably short-lived lie.

Bowser shook his head. There was no explaining it to others, but he always knew— he was missing something. His entire life had been missing something. A, piercing, overwhelming, light, that, was, beyond, everything—

Little Bowser Jr. was dead now, only his fading memory could still ask foolish questions. He was the only one in Bowser's life who had ever really cared, clearly, and had been the only one who could have cut through to his heart, make him question his motives for a moment...

Now, deep breath.

In 2000 was a final, cruel attempt, one that even Bowser had to regret. The Cold War that had begun somewhere before this held no real meaning to him, it was simply another tool in his means of finally winning Peach over. Like a stupid animal he did what he had done every time before, and captured her.

He threw in a twist this time: kidnapping her young children, too. All for one last entreaty, to come to his side.

Please, god, I really do

love

you.

—

EIGHTH CAPTURE, 2000:

FAILURE

—

What made him quit, finally? Was it the brutal scars he was given, the disfigurements that would stay with him the rest of his life? Was it Peach, removed from her children, standing so brave before... suddenly breaking into a hysterical screaming fit, scratching furiously at his face? The realization that the people in the world around him that he had treated as toys, as set pieces for so long, were beginning to bend and curve disastrously...? That, maybe, they were real…?

Kamek appears in a memory. These words he spoke when he was bedridden and near death, but now they come from a young Kamek, the weak if nerdish father figure walking in a blank world— maybe Bowser's unconscious conception of death.

"You watched too many movies, Prince Bowser." Kamek walked along, like a professor giving some lecture. "Too much media, too many stories, poured into your head. Too little interaction… you saw this world to be just as real as the worlds on the screen."

He stopped, turning, facing right in the center of the screen.

"We were just characters to you. Props."

Did he ever actually say that? It's hard for Bowser to remember, bedridden as he is now, near to the end of his life. Some terrible sickness had come over him, perhaps from lack of activity. He'd lived in his secluded corner of the castle for years now.

"Do you think it was a good movie?" Bowser said to the wall.

Kamek's smile slowly disappeared, and his head shook slowly. "Too repetitive. Too sad. Tragedies are fine, but to watch the protagonist fail in the same way over and over again without learning anything… it's pathetic."

"So I'm pathetic. If you were still alive, you wouldn't dare to say that to me."

Kamek made a kind of short, dry coughing sound, what passed for a laugh. "There's all sorts of benefits to being dead."

Bowser laughed too. "Something to look forward to?"

The thin Magikoopa closed his eyes. "Something that just happens. There's no reason to feel anything about the inevitable."

The sound of knocking faded into Bowser's hearing. Someone was here.

"How transparent." Bowser laughed.

"Go on," Kamek turned away, "At least go standing. You're not as weak as you've been pretending."

Bowser tossed the covers away, and leaned out of his bed. "But I'm weak enough."

The knocking stopped. The doorknob started to turn.

"I'm coming." Bowser called. "Give me a moment."

Kamek was still floating in his vision. How strange.

"Will I see you again?" Bowser mused. "What's it like? Will I be able to look back into this world? Can I still watch the light?"

He reached the door and opened it.

There stood Wendy, tears running down her face, messy mascara. Past her, outside a window, Bowser could see the snow that was blowing in.

He looked right past his daughter, to the blinding white outside. "Is it… November already?"

Pain. He looked down, marveling at the knife sticking out of his breast.

"Sharp." He said lightly. "But not enough-"

Another knife slid in on his right side. Then a third. A fourth.

"That's a little better, but…"

He was pushed back. He fell, weak like a leaf. On the ground she stood above him, twisting the knives and tearing them out, letting the blood run out onto the carpeted floor.

The identity of the killer didn't matter. It was just another prop in the long line of props that had facilitated Bowser's story. No, of most interest about the prop was that it established the ending. Its motives didn't matter… it was enough that it hated him. For making it fight, for not loving it properly?

Kamek faded from his vision, and the darkness began to close in, as expected. His daughter, his prop, Wendy stood above. Watching. Making sure he died. Fine.

It was all an hourglass in the end. He was sand, slipping from one realm to another, from a realm of failure, to a realm of victory.

Like she had appeared before his infancy in the mists of his past, he believed she could appear again beyond the end of time, waiting for his embrace.


	9. 09: TttM (Episode Lumen)

Chapter Nine: Ticket to the Moon (Episode Lumen)

Light flickers awake, crackling through a flickering glass.

A screen projected, a new world comes awake, casting recorded forms outward—

People. Places. Events.

Then:

In an empty landscape of piercing white, a realm of glow, Rolf struggles, wandering. He hears a sound, not audible to the audience in the overwhelming bellow that the speakers are emitting, and turns around to find a tailor's doll standing amidst the void, misplaced arms extending outward in the facsimile of a hug. A wave of relief falls over Rolf's face, and he embraces the doll.

The visual white and the violent noise increase, and then suddenly, the screen blacks out.

The theatre room is darkened, miring in the same inky pool as the movie.

The lights above come on, illuminating three figures, sitting in plastic chairs set in front of the screen.

"Strange." The koopa on the right posited after a moment, "Reminds me of that one seventies film, the one with the horrible looking baby…"

" _Erasurehead_." The human replied. "The final scene was a direct inspiration."

"Good grief, again." The duplighost sighed. "What kind of messed up films have you two been watching?"

The koopa shrugged. "I don't watch that many. Erasurehead is just famous, I happened to catch it somewhere…"

The human squinted at the duplighost. "Hold on. Are you high right now?"

"Eld," The duplighost coughed, "I feel like it, watching that disaster. Lumen, it feels like your movies have just been getting weirder and weirder. Are you doing okay, my man?"

Lumen sighed. "You haven't known me for that long. I've always been into this kind of stuff. I just didn't feel confident to shoot one like this before."

"Hmm, I like it." The koopa rested her chin in her hand. "I just think if you keep making movies like this, it's gonna be a tough sell for the general audience."

"Thank you, Kali. And maybe I don't care if a general audience doesn't understand…"

"Besides that," The duplighost puffed, "What's the point of it? To be so damn weird… it's wacky and neat, but, uh, does it have a use?"

"Yes, and thank you, Doopliss," Lumen sighed, "There is a point. It's rawer art. It's meant to reach deeper into the sentient unconscious, to try to drudge up some truth…"

"So you're trying to find truth."

"You know," Lumen sighed, "If you weren't high all the time we wouldn't have these same conversations over and over again."

"Slick, loosen up." Doopliss shrugged his sheet and hopped from the theatre seat, "I already got enough going on in my head, I don't need to watch some bonkers art film."

He turned around, strange body flapping.

"Let me get it all straight: you've been trying to find truth and beauty and whatever through your movies?"

"Yes. ...And research."

"Right, whatever. Listen," Doopliss swung around, "If you're serious, then…"

Oh, Lumen was serious. Disturbingly so, for he had awoken in a moment of horror one morning two years ago, in 2012. Normally, if he did not have schooling to attend to, Lumen stayed up and slept in late, often awakening to the early afternoon sun.

One summer morning, by the sudden mysterious shifting of some biological clock, he woke up early. Something directed him upright, and he stumbled towards his bedroom window— inexplicably urged to look out.

He gazed and saw the world outside his world, his bedroom shrine of films. Outside, from the high castle tower, he could look out over Toad Town, and the fields beyond. The sun had just risen above the horizon and was climbing the beautiful sky.

Something cracked. He realized that until that point in time, he had lost life. He had been shut away, working on creative pursuits that lead nowhere and were seen by almost no one, and that while the world outside continued to move and evolve and the people outside boasted purpose and skill, he suddenly seemed to have nothing at all.

He had wasted seventeen years of life.

Struck dumb by the certainty of the thought, he got dressed and went outside. The guards of the castle were shocked to see him walk with such direction—without resistance—towards the outside world.

He went into Toad Town, and despite being the prince of the Mushroom Kingdom, his appearance was so unexpected that few people seemed to recognize him.

He looked around, and began to absorb the world outside. Instead of mimicking as best he could the media produced by others, he began to directly take in the patterns of the real world.

Until that summer morning, Lumen had only two real friends in his life: his sister, and his niece. His sister was the much more notable (to the outside world) Sola Toadstool. His niece was the daughter of Luigi, Celeste.

Despite being just five-years-old in 2012, Celeste was one of the most interesting people who lived in Mushroom Castle. The mysterious girl, hardly known outside the castle walls, was intimately known to most of the people on the inside. From the age of four, she was often found wandering the halls of the castle on her own, wearing a simple dress, and usually carrying a single stick of chalk— the color variable by the day. Her freedom, at first seen to be outrageous and earning Luigi some whispered criticism, was soon accepted— for firstly, the guards were ordered to keep the little girl from leaving the castle grounds, and secondly, that her magnificent intelligence could not be doubted.

The chalk she carried was not merely for drawing, it was for performing mathematical equations, of which she would leave notation along the walls and floors of the castle hallways.

At the age of four she was fluent in calculus, becoming a speaker of the universe's language of change.

At the age of five she was working with various methods of probability, along with more abstract algebras and geometries.

(And a bit into the future—

At the age of six she was deep into physics. The various notes she left around the castle completely unreadable to almost everyone.

At the age of seven she was completely devoted to the science of acoustics.

Music.)

Lumen took it on himself to be a bit of a teacher for the young, socially reclusive girl. She was monstrously smart, but her focal genius was largely predicated towards very precise areas: mathematics and physics. Stuff like art, literature, and (of course) the appreciation of film, was unknown to her.

"So what's new today?" Lumen asked, coming upon Celeste in a castle hallway one afternoon.

"P versus NP problem… but I'm stuck on a part."

The reference to the infamous computer problem was far beyond Lumen's understanding.

"Oh man," Lumen chuckled nervously, "That's tough."

"It's hard," Celeste shrugged, "So I will work on it until it's solved."

Lumen nodded dumbly. "Right."

In many instances, this was how their interactions went— the little girl busy, and Lumen baffled to silence by her work.

Hold on, the film is skipping. It needs adjustment—

"It's alright," Lumen smiles, not completely without anxiety, "It's not that important, I guess."

Wait a moment, where is he…? What year is it? Why does he feel so strange? Like…?

The film skips—

"It's alright," Lumen smiles, not completely without anxiety, "It's not that…"

He stops. He's somewhere dark, but also warm. He moves his hand, but it's already there, where he aimed to move it— hanging in the air. He's hanging safely, floating up in the air. This reminds him of something.

"The purpose of art." Lumen announces distinctly.

Doopliss leans forward in interest, though there's clearly a mocking air in the movement. Kali narrows her eyes, but focuses on Lumen.

"The purpose of art," Lumen repeats, "Is to discover the depths of the unconscious. There is no place more mysterious than the spaces inside our own heads."

"Hey," Doopliss suddenly yaps, "Did you take some of my stuff?"

"No," Lumen says slowly, "Though who knows what I'm inhaling just by being near you."

"Ha!" Doopliss pulls a bag of chips from seemingly nowhere.

"Okay, but what?" Kali gestures in a circling motion with her hand, "What is the purpose of art? The unconscious?"

"Yes, yes. Just think— everything we perceive is filtered through our minds. This outside world we believe to be in… It is an illusion of an illusion, practically a creation of our minds. Considering this, one could say that studying the brain is the way to come closest to the truth in our world of sciences.

"But so far physiology has only had success in studying the outside of the mind, the hard machinery. The rush of color and light and meaning, of miraculous fluid and depth… what some call the soul… science has had little luck in identifying the core conceit of it."

"Brain chemicals," Kali calls out. "Next?"

"Yes, yes, okay, whatever," Lumen waves a hand, "But saying that doesn't cheer a person up. It doesn't help someone have a happier life… Art shines a mirror on the internal substance. By the personal interpretation of art, one notices certain patterns emerge, the flashes of light from reflections of the unconscious. The great Mover…"

Was this before or after?

"Before or after what?"

The journey.

"The journey? What journey?"

The—

—hallway is a bit brighter than Lumen was expecting. He's carrying his heavy camera, a bit too flushed with excitement, when he turns a corner and has his vision blinded by brilliant light. To make matters worse, he trips on an awkward brick sticking out of a corner of the wall, and he's falling forward…

He falls to his side, concentrating the impact on the side of a knee, cradling the camera in his arms. A sharp pain jolts through the leg, but Lumen only heaves a sigh of relief.

"Prince Lumen! Are you alright?"

Lumen stops himself from telling the servant to go away. "Yes, yes… Toadako, I'm fine. Really."

He bites on his lip to keep from gasping as he slowly rises to his feet.

"I…" Toadako seems to be avoiding something.

"What?" Lumen looks down at her. "What is it?"

"A message from Toadsworth…" Toadako pauses. "They found something in the dungeons."

Lumen blinks. "Underground? The underground dungeons?"

"Somewhere deep, they said." Toadako shivers.

In the midst of researching the history of Mushroom Castle (in the midst of researching something else), Lumen came across a series of incredibly old documents mapping the forgotten, unused depths of the Mushroom Castle dungeons. The dungeons had not been utilized since the great wars of at least a century past. Their greatest use had come during the Revolutionary War, when the Mushroom Kingdom had declared independence from the waning Opisthokont Empire nearly two hundred years ago, shortly before the massive state shattered.

Even the most complete of Mushroom Castle's dungeon maps ended after a certain point— some one hundred feet below the ground floor of Mushroom Castle, an incomplete hallway stretched forward into nothingness. That passageway had been blocked by fallen rubble for many years, in the farther reaches of the cobwebbed dark depths, so Lumen hired a team to carefully excavate the passage.

Toadsworth, hearing of the project, asked to be let on as team leader. He was a bit of an armchair spelunker, and though he felt too elderly to be going out to distant regions of the country to explore cold and cramped caves, the idea of exploring the depths of his own home excited him greatly.

Lumen met Toadsworth not more than an hour later, down in the newly revealed passage. Lined by molded brick, the channel was rank with faded time and dust-made memories of the dead. It was both a fascinating and sad place.

Toadsworth and the excavation crew were waiting some ways in, looking towards a curved, particularly dry section of wall.

"What's this?" Lumen nodded towards where the crew were looking. "And what's at the end of the passage?"

"Prince Lumen!" Toadsworth bowed.

"Yes, yes, okay," Lumen gestured for the old man to get up. "I told you, I don't want any of that. Now what's going on here?"

"We went to the end of the passage, my prince," Toadsworth looked down the dark hallway, "But it was a dead-end, prince, quite literally. We came up to a wall of earth… whether it's a cave-in or the passageway was simply never finished, no one is quite certain. However," Toadsworth walked over and tapped the stone wall with his cane, "One of the good chaps here, Biggsby, noticed how dry this wall here was. Then, once we were all giving it a look, we all sensed a draft… we realized there must be another passage through here!"

"Great!" Lumen spread his arms. "Awesome. So what are we waiting for?"

Toadsworth smiled and gestured to the wall. One of the toad excavators nearby nodded, and swung his massive pickaxe into the wall. Pieces of brick burst out, along with a short cloud of dust, throwing Toadsworth, Lumen, and a few of the excavators into a tremendous coughing fit.

"Hold on," Lumen coughed, "Shouldn't this be a more careful excavation?!"

"Don't worry, prince," Toadsworth shouted, "The boys have done all the proper calculations. This is perfectly safe."

As he spoke, a brick unlodged from the ceiling and fell between two of the excavators, breaking apart into a number of pieces.

"Oh heck no," Lumen stepped back, "Toadsworth, come on, these guys are out of it…"

But by the time the last words had left his mouth, the pickaxe had been swung again, and the last of the weakened wall crumbled away. The find inside was a mild surprise.

A layer of wood lined the inside of the hole, not very deep from the layer of brick-laid dungeon hallway.

"There's still a draft," The excavator mumbled confusedly, "Umm… there's a draft coming through the wood."

"Hit it again, my boy!" Toadsworth exclaimed, "By Eld, I can taste the gold already!"

Lumen frowned, and began to question the old man's motives.

The excavator sucked in a great deal of breath, and pulling the pickaxe back at full strength, let loose on the wood.

It turned out to be fine oak, however, and after a few minutes the strong efforts of the excavator had created a small sliver in the wall— just enough for someone to slip through.

"Alright, everyone stop." Lumen held up a hand, "I'm going through."

"But we didn't quite finish…" Toadsworth complained.

"We don't need to tear open a whole door," Lumen shook his head. "With a little bit of effort we can make it through now. Flashlight?"

He held out his hand. An excavator handed him something modern.

"Great, very good." Lumen flashed a light into the crack.

After a pause:

"Oh… dang."

"What?!" Toadsworth almost shouted, spooking one of the excavators. "What in blazes is it? Please, move ahead sir, I would like a look!"

Lumen turned sideways and eased through the hole, keeping his eye on the ground below to make sure he wasn't stepping into a pit.

He wasn't. Instead, he was discovering an underground library. Circling around a pipe emerging from the center of a floor, room composed of shockingly white bricks, were bookshelves— great structures reaching up at least thirty feet. Lumen realized as he gazed in awe at the sight that he was stepping on several books that had been knocked down where the wall had been broken through.

"By Eld, by Jove, by Grambi, what is this!" Toadsworth uttered as he strutted in. "Bring in more lights my boys! What is all this…?"

Lumen wandered wordlessly alongside the books, tracing his fingers along the antiquated spines. He pulled out a volume, its title a strange garble, and flipped through the pages.

"It's not damaged," he commented quietly.

The excavators themselves wandered around for a few minutes, looking increasingly annoyed as they went.

"I say, though," Toadsworth said oddly, "Where was that queer draft coming from?"

Everyone turned at nearly the same time towards the large rusted pipe in the center of the room, and all approaching from different angles, gazed down into the source of faint wind.

"Why, it's so warm." Toadsworth marveled.

"Chilly to me." An excavator complained.

Lumen said nothing, but leaned forward and gazed more deeply into the black.

"My boy, be careful," Toadsworth exclaimed, "Eld knows where this thing leads to… I know your father was quite the expert with pipes back in the day, but I doubt even he would care to inspect this plumbing, eh?"

Lumen said nothing, but nodded after a moment and pulled away.

—Still, the overwhelming void of the pipe seemed to be calling.

The mysterious room became the new focus of Lumen's studies. He soon discovered that the texts there were written in Old Shroom, an evolutionary ancestor of the Mushroom Kingdom's modern language. A newfound drive in Lumen directed him to learn the speech, and he focused on the study so squarely that he even went away from filmmaking for a time. His dedication and solitude was so successfully meshed that he was able to read the simpler texts after three months of time. By the beginning of 2014 he was able to read all but the most difficult of the books. For though the task was difficult by strict definition, his interest in the room was so rapid and consuming that any matter of difficulty was rapidly subsumed by the stronger force of Lumen's obsession.

Somewhere along the line, Lumen invited Toadbert to look at the room, and try to trace its origins. Toadbert had a certain reputation as the most intelligent individual in the Mushroom Kingdom following the passing of Gadd.

Toadbert had little to offer about the room, however, and seemed to want nothing more than to get away from it.

No one besides Lumen, Toadsworth, the excavators, and Toadbert knew of the place. Toadbert, ever since his lone encounter with the room, avoided it everafter. Toadsworth, although excited by the original discovery, seemed disappointed in the lack of more literal treasure—as well as the end of the excavation (the journey, not the destination, etc.)—and so stopped visiting the room after a short time. The excavation team, their work done, stayed home until they were called away to a mining project in the remote north.

A room all to himself, with the strangest books…

"Kali," Lumen asked one evening, "Have you ever heard of a place called Athens?"

Kali looked up from her notes and gave him a Look. "No. ...Why are you asking me that? Ask Doopliss."

"Doopliss has a bad memory," Lumen sighed.

Doopliss flopped over on Kali's lumpy couch. "You know I can hear both of you, right?"

"Don't mind us." Lumen called.

Doopliss crumpled his mouth. "You know, I _have_ heard of a place called Athens."

"What?" Lumen swung around.

"Well, not really." Doopliss sighed. "But if I had, and you hadn't asked me, it woulda been pretty sad for you slick."

Lumen had Doopliss pinned on the ground, 'neck' in an armhold.

"Holy E-Eld, slick!" Doopliss gasped. "Where'd you learn this trick?"

Kali stood up. "Break it up, boys. As much as I love seeing a human and a sheet grabbing at each other, this is distracting me from my work."

Lumen looked up at Kali and grinned, releasing Doopliss who promptly crawled away. "Why'd you let us come hang out if you have such important work to do?"

"I want input." Kali crossed her arms. "This could be important."

"Everyone stop everything," Doopliss gurgled, "Kali has something _important_!"

"Oh shut up, you immortal blanket," Kali barked, "Lumen, c'mere. You might find this interesting." She gestured over to the desk where she had been working.

On a sheet of paper was a drawing of Mushroom Castle blowing up, smoke rushing up from fiery ruins.

"You've got be kidding," Lumen gagged.

"I am." Kali flipped the sheet over. On the over side of the paper was a long list.

"These are our demands." She traced her finger down the line, the small text just barely legible. "To be read out to the mayor of Toad Town at noon, three days from now."

Lumen took a closer look. "Your manifesto…"

"Don't make it sound so stuffy. There's a large part of Toad Town that lives in poverty, despite the people there working just as hard as everyone else… if not harder." Kali crossed her arms. "They've suffered in silence. Now I and some others are providing a voice."

"These demands are interesting, but," Lumen's eyes fell down the lines, "How much do you think this will really accomplish? You're reading this outside of the mayor's manor, right? The mayor might leave his house, go out the back. ...He probably won't be listening in any case."

"Probably not," Kali admitted, "But this is only the first step. It's more of a morale-boost for our people, the organization, and the community it represents. Reporters will be sure to show up as well and get us representation in the news. Once our force gets stronger, the mayor'll have to start reading our words, and sending people to attend our speeches."

"I suppose so," Lumen put down the paper. "They're good ideas, certainly. I think everything you wrote would improve things…"

"And these demands, and the injustices they point out, apply all over the kingdom,"—Kali watched Lumen closely—"And all over the world. Only the Beanbean Revolution has been working to bring in these ends... such as true democracy. Changing Toad Town is a small accomplishment, compared to changing the national order…"

Lumen turned away. "You know I can't…"

"Lumen."

Kali grabbed his arm suddenly, and he jerked to a stop. "Start slow. Just suggest some ideas to the queen, the king. Your sister…"

Lumen pulls away, but

Kali's hand has already begun to merge with Lumen's, sinking into his flesh like two melting slabs of butter congealing.

"Wait, this didn't happen!" Lumen cries.

He pulls away further, but at the full extent and snap of the limb, he finds his arm has become one with Kali's, one long snaky limb connecting the two of them.

"Well, in that case," Kali sighs, "I guess there's really no use trying to avoid it."

Lumen pulls, and the sky falls.

Was this before or after?

"Before or after what?"

You know what.

"Oh right. Must be before, because it's still happening."

Is it? Are you sure you're not seeing the future? Or re-living the past? Deep in a memory?

"I think this might be where it's best to accept that time doesn't really exist."

Lumen meets Kali in the middle of 2013, not long after he finally leaves the castle. She's in the midst of a rally, handing out flyers, spreading a message. Lumen's only heard bad things about the group, and is immediately curious.

He takes a flyer.

He sees Kali again at the next event, a week later. He discusses the ideology with her.

Kali becomes the first friend Lumen's had outside of Mushroom Castle in the last ten years.

Lumen meets Doopliss a few months later. The duplighost is undisguised, sitting inside a bar with a sour look on his face and a bitter drink on the counter.

Lumen can't help but stare.

"What?" Doopliss sounds more sad than really bothered. "Never seen a duplighost before, kid?"

"Kid?" Lumen smiles innocently. "I look older than you."

"No," Doopliss hops off of his stool, "You're just taller. Get off yours. ...See?"

Lumen gets back into his seat, feeling strangely entertained. "I think I've seen you somewhere before."

"Yeah?" Doopliss's eyes flash and he disappears in a puff of smoke, returning as a copy of Lumen. "Look in a mirror, slick."

"Hey!" The burly mega mole bartender roars, "I told you not to pull your *&# ! tricks in here anymore!"

"Ugh," Doopliss-Lumen pouts.

"Turn back, now." The bartender stopped in front of Doopliss-Lumen.

Doopliss-Lumen sighs and flashes back into regular Doopliss.

The bartender turns to Lumen and points at Doopliss. "This character has been turning into other customers and piling up their bar tabs. He's damn lucky he was able to pay back the money," The bartender squints at Doopliss, "Otherwise he would've become the bar's mop."

Doopliss makes a sad mumbly sound as the bartender turns away.

"A drink for my friend." Lumen calls out.

The bartender gives him an incredulous look, but pours out the drink.

"Friend?" Doopliss crows, "What are you talking about? I'm the biggest loser in town."

"Nah." Lumen takes a gulp of his own drink. "Your abilities make you pretty interesting. ...Humm, good research."

Doopliss stares at him. "Are you even old enough to be in here?"

Lumen shrugs innocently. The bartender rolls his eyes.

Kali and Doopliss met not too long after. Following a short verbal tussle, the two accepted their general roles in relation to each other— Kali with a smug grin, Doopliss with a short whimper... but both with underlying satisfaction.

The three hung out often through the second half of 2013 and into 2014, generally meeting at Kali's cozy house in southern Toad Town. As everyone became more comfortable with each other, they loosened up and began to present themselves more honestly.

Doopliss began to show up mildly sedated, high from a particular leaf he was fond of. After Lumen's curious questioning, the duplighost began to bring the material directly to Kali's home, and smoking up to even greater levels of inebriation.

Kali began to explain in increasing detail her plans for the future of the "Movement", sometimes making radical exclamations that shocked even Doopliss.

Lumen began to share his films with his friends— conscious that his unconscious was on direct display.

But your unconscious is always on direct display. It is present in every movement of your conscious actions, an echo, a refraction of the currents within the deep sea of the mind.

"So what I really have to worry about is how well people can read the text of my actions, what tree-trunk these indicative branches ultimately connect to. An infinity of trees curving into… the absolute core center of the self, the 'real' identity."

You shouldn't worry in the first place.

"Uhh...oh. Wait a second…"

The film skips—

"It's alright," Lumen smiles, not completely without anxiety, "It's not that important, I guess."

That doesn't make any sense with what he was just saying. The pattern is repeating, and the more the pattern repeats, the more it emerges as a symbol of something greater. The more it recurs, the more significance it takes on.

"Slick, you talk about art all the time, all day…" Doopliss fades off.

"I don't talk about art every second," Lumen says slowly, "You can't just exaggerate like that. It's hard enough to find the real, actual, true truth without saying things like…"

"Shhhhhhh…" Doopliss puts a part of his sheet to his mouth, "Damn, slick, you talk way too much when you're like this. Listen: this is important: like, really: it's for the sake of your future: about your ambitions, and, uh, dreams:..."

"Say it!" Kali raises her voice slightly.

"Okay!" Doopliss cowers a little, "Hey, c'mon, don't shout. Listen, Lumen, this stuff won't get you anywhere. You want to spy the real, uh, underlying nature of the world or whatever, right? This stuff won't get you there. You need better."

Lumen leans forward. "Are you talking about…"

"Shhhhh…!" Doopliss flaps his sheets. "Listen, damn. Slick. Look, I have access to something better, something great. For you. I just, I'll need some funds…"

"Yeah, okay…" Lumen begins to dig into his pockets.

"No, no." Doopliss flaps his sheets again, more slowly this time. "Later. Later, after I get it, you pay me back, and…"

Kali seems to find all of this highly amusing, and she starts to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Lumen demands.

"This is all perfect," Kali cackles. She falls onto her back, laughing, jeaned legs splaying in the air.

Lumen rolls his eyes.

The film skips—

"Stop!" Lumen shouts.

"Eld damn it! This isn't a movie. This isn't a story, this isn't a script. This is real life. There is no film to skip-! Just stop it!"

The air ripples out, and Lumen is jerking his head up, looking around the darkness that swims away from him. To his left, on a rickety velvet chair, is Doopliss. The duplighost is lying on his side, head on the armchair, eyes half-closed as stares into the empty fireplace. To Lumen's right is Kali, sitting on the right side of the couch, staring up at the brick chimney above the fireplace, climbing up and out of the house. And there, in the middle of the couch, is her hand with his atop it…

"No." He utters, and stands up, tilting as the room twists with him, turning almost upright. Lumen fell back onto the couch, but keeps his hands to himself, looking away from Kali with some churning gob of thoughts.

It wasn't right, obviously. No. No.

He looks back towards the empty fireplace, thoughts circling around like a hurricane and resting on Doopliss, wondering what the duplighost was seeing in the fireplace. And now that he looked, he could see something flickering in there. A small pin of light, growing bigger, fluttering—

Lumen gets off the couch, crawling on his knees, the hardwood floor beneath. He moves towards the fireplace, and without hesitation, begins to reach in.

"Don't do it." Doopliss suddenly whispers. He shakes his head, still staring into the fireplace, his eyes reflecting the mysterious light.

Lumen stops to look back at Doopliss, but for not more then an instant— he turns back and reaches towards the light.

A snap of the fingers.

Lumen sits in a chair, alone, surrounded by darkness.

"What am I doing here?"

He already knows the answer to that. It's not like he forgot what had started all of this, just because of how vivid the flurry of events were.

"What am I…?" He struggles. "What am I trying to do?"

He already knows the answer to that. Or someone does. Someone is answering all the questions, just as he asks them. And as he finds, there's no use in asking the questions, as the answers are always already there.

"You know everything, don't you?" Lumen whispers.

The answer is there.

It feels like a hug. Like some greater thing was embracing him, but in the end, he was just sitting there alone.

"But I'm not. You were always there."

It's quite distinct, right out of the corner of his eyes... right behind his head... on the other side of the chair.

"All the answers, all the truth, was already here. An internal reflection." It feels like knots are being untied in his mind, "I am you, you are me, and the vision is a circle. The illusion of a spiral."

There's a sound like someone or something has slammed eight hands down on all the keys of a piano simultaneously, but the tone is heavenly.

And then a song plays. It is the most beautiful song Lumen has ever heard.

"Ha ha ha," Doopliss chuckles, "Feeling fine?"

Lumen scrambles up to meet the duplighost who is scrolling through the channels of a radio. "What is that song? That's the… the song is…"

"Save your breath," Doopliss shrugs. "This stuff unlocks the potential of every song."

Lumen stares.

"Every song is ultimately the exact same song," Doopliss explains with a mix of seriousness and playfulness, "Every song can give you a Message, or The Message. Every song can tell the entire story of you, the world, the universe. This stuff just makes it easier to hear it— the whole universe."

Lumen nods with understanding. "To gaze upon a drop of water is to behold the nature of all the waters of the universe."

"Nice. Where'd you get that?"

"The basement. In the Mushroom Castle dungeons, there's this library." Lumen pauses, worried about revealing the secret, but decides in a surprising instant that he doesn't really care. "A library full of these ancient books. Really interesting material."

"Hm." Doopliss considers it for a moment, then turns back to focus on the music.

Ten minutes later (or maybe ten days later) Lumen is surprised by the music again.

Doopliss hardly moves. "What is it?"

"I think I've heard this before…" Lumen gestures toward the radio. "It's… but I know I haven't."

 _I see a stairway so I follow it down, into the belly of a whale where my secrets echo all around_

"Every song is the same," Doopliss repeated, somewhat proudly.

"I think I've been hearing this song… this exact song, out when I've been walking." Lumen concentrated. "When I was sleeping, too…?" He thought about it some more.

 _A crowd of people turned away… But I just had to look… Having read the book…_

"Wait," Lumen turns to Doopliss, "Is this the same song?"

Instead of Doopliss, Kali is there now, eating a pizza slice. "Same song as what?"

"Where did you get that pizza?"

Kali points a thumb back towards the coffee-table, where a pizza box lies open. Doopliss is there, huddled up in an upright fetal position, thinking seriously about something.

"It came half-an-hour ago. Remember, I told you? You weren't hungry."

Lumen rubs his head. "Oh, yeah. I remember." He had been focusing on something else at the time.

"Interesting song," Kali gestures back to the radio, "I've never heard it before, though."

"Really?" Lumen purses his lips. He'd heard this song somewhere before… but again, it wasn't quite clear. The strands of lyrics and sounds, rippling out from…

Wait, if he sat and concentrated, and controlled his breathing (deep breath… deep breath…) he could feel himself crawling, reaching towards it…

The movie theater. New Year's, 2003. While Yoshi had been buying tickets at the box office outside, Lumen waiting in the sweet slight cold, had heard the song billowing out from a nearby window, from someone's apartment. The strange lyrics, indecipherable to his eight-year-old self, had danced through his mind as he had watched the movie, until the point when his full concentration was taken by the hero's gaze on-screen, looking toward the holy mountain—

 _I can't forget I am a sole architect, I built the shadows here, I built the growl in the voice I fear_

—But THAT song had no source in his memory, he was sure. At least, even with his mind enhanced and running free he couldn't quite search it out, find it, and dust it off… And he felt like now he could find anything, do anything, answer anything…

"Hey." A sheet touches his shoulder, sending an electric shock through his body. Lumen sweats away the ridiculous reaction and turns to Doopliss.

"There's two slices of pizza left, slick. This is your last chance, otherwise I'm eating them…"

Lumen takes the remaining pizza without another word. The remaining circle of grease in the pizza box gleams as Kali shuts the cover, a perfect circle flashing white then being cut off by the dark.

He bit into the food in his hands without another thought.

It was the best pizza he had ever tasted.


	10. 10: TKM (Episode Ensemble 3)

**Act Three: Gleaming Mirror**

Chapter Ten: The Killing Moon (Episode Ensemble 3)

Oh!

The light begins to fragment, the glass shattering, and I see now— they were not me. Not one of those identities I held close, not one of those personalities I took on, was the real "me". I inhabited those positions, and I saw through their eyes, and I lived their lives for a short time. Now I fall out again, and I am overwhelmed by this light, by the true nature of existence. I am all of these people, I am any of them, I can see the way to their light at all times...

I breathe in... get a bit higher... I feel like my mind is dancing.

I tell myself I can accept the task God has given me, but I am not quite there yet. There is one person I can't quite let go of yet...

L…

L…?

A noble and mocking letter at the same time. Simultaneously an ode and a joke. Love and hate are always the same, aren't they? One bright force that determines all things, the manifestation of a heart…

Here's one. Prince Lemmy Koopa emerges from a vast dream, brought on by the rippling acidic flavor of a piece of paper, identical to the wriggling green worms that were so popular last decade. Now, the toxins had been stripped out and concentrated on little papers, a punch of power in the mouth that filled the head with visions instead of the stomach with food. In certain circumstances, a worthwhile trade…

For Lemmy Koopa, it certainly is. He's crying, but his tears are those of a melting glacier. The light outside the window seems a little brighter, and the sun is coming up. His lungs fill with more air… he's crying a little more… He doesn't care anymore. The standards he had lived by, created in monument to a great vacuum, had been meaningless.

There's a knock at the door. It's a last test before he can return to the real world again, he already knows.

He is king now. King of the Koopa Kingdom. King Lemmy Koopa. It sounds stupid and mighty at the same time. (How these things are always entwined…)

Lemmy's succession is one matter. The former king's murder is another. There were very few people that could enter that hall of the castle with the proper security clearance.

It's very quickly clear who the murderer was. The question of motive is not too much open for debate.

There were about a thousand reasons the culprit might have wanted to kill her father.

…

His crowning ceremony was quiet and private. Afterwards he had a coffee, then headed straight for his sister's room.

He could never have guessed what he would find there.

The next day, Lumen, Kali, and Doopliss met at Kali's house. It had been a week since their experience together. They had talked about it for a minute, in which time it became clear that although everyone had seen the same general events, the fundamental meaning beneath had been different for each of them. Due to the differences, the conversation become muddied.

Everyone had a few drinks.

"Say," Doopliss said after a moment, "Lumen. What'd you do with the rest of the, uh…?"

After their day together, Lumen had immediately bought the rest of what Doopliss had had.

The human concentrated on the coffee table, trying to figure out some riddle within. "I kept half of it. The other half… I sent to Lemmy Koopa."

Kali's head snapped to the right and she looked at Lumen. Doopliss grimaced. "Huh."

"Huh?" Kali jumped. "Huh?! Is that all? You did what…?"

Lumen shrugged. "It might do some good."

Kali stared at him. Doopliss broke into a series of dry chuckles. "This is what aristocrats do for each other I suppose…"

"Don't call me that." Lumen glanced over. "I'm not…"

"You are." Kali interjected.

"I am _not_ …" Lumen repeated, "Don't say that."

"Lumen, look," Kali put a hand on his shoulder, "I say it as a good thing... in your case. You're invested in the Cause. ...Otherwise, if you weren't… ya know, eat the rich and all that…"

"Oh, shut up." Lumen shrugged her off. "Look, I don't associate with any of those 'high-class' people. You guys are my friends, you're the people I spend the most time with… unless you're aristocrats, I'm not calling myself one…"

Kali rolled her eyes.

"Look," Lumen removed himself from the couch, and began walking back and forth in front of the couch, "I'm an artist, first and foremost…"

"Here he goes…" Doopliss yowled.

"Shush!" Lumen pointed.

"Now he's bossing me around, just like the rich prince he is…"

"No no no," Lumen waved his hands, "None of that. I live in the pursuit of art. I am nothing else— especially after last week, my suspicions were confirmed. I am ultimately empty, a container…"

"For God!" Kali interjected, laughing.

"No!" Lumen threw his hands up. "For art! I am a conduit for the Unconscious…"

"He says it like he's capitalizing it…" Doopliss sniggered.

"Look, Lumen," Kali leaned forward, "You're making all this a much bigger deal than it is. Really, you're just the worst narcissist…"

Lumen crossed his arms. "Oh for god's sake…"

"And you," She shook her sake cup towards Lumen, keeping the liquid safely spinning inside, "Just want to… get… 'you'... all out there. It's all you. Just… your artist's vision, it's your brand. You want to get yourself out there. You want people to see you. I think _that's_ what you want."

"No." Lumen shook his head. "I don't exist. There is no 'brand' of me, I am trying to represent universal truths of sentient-kind…"

"That's an excuse!" Kali shouted, then broke into laughter. "First, you're scared of intimacy, so you turn inward, and fall in love with yourself, and then you're just trying to spread yourself out onto the world that you think doesn't love you enough…"

"Wrong wrong wrong wrong…" Lumen tapped his right foot. He turned to Doopliss. "Doop! Help me. You want to… you want to be an actor, don't you?" Lumen looked back to Kali. "Would you accuse him of being a narcissist?"

Kali watched Doopliss with a smirk. "If he says yes."

"I…" Doopliss glanced back and forth between the standing human and the smirking koopa on the couch. "I'm not a narcissist, but… yes, I do want to be an actor. ...And there's nothing wrong with that!"

"No, there's not." Lumen threw his hands up. "And you'd make a great actor!"

Kali clearly wanted to say something, but she kept her mouth shut. The knowing smirk remained on her face.

"You think so?" Doopliss asked. "You think I'd be alright?"

"You. Are. A. Duplighost, my friend!" Lumen grabbed Doopliss and tossed him, watching him spin across the floor. "You can turn into anything! You are the perfect actor!"

"I mean, I've always wanted…as long as I could remember..." Doopliss backed up against the wall opposite the coffee table. "But I don't know if I have the personality…"

"Anyone can become anything!" Lumen shouted.

"Not in a capitalist society," Kali coughed.

"You just need the ambition, the desire, the drive…"

"Doopliss, you should join the Movement," Kali's eyes narrowed, and her smirk widened, "You could act for a good cause."

"No no no," Lumen shook his head, "Doopliss, follow your dreams."

"Hmm…" Doopliss stared up at the ceiling lights. "I've always loved the stage…"

"Oh, you two are hopeless." Kali got up off the couch and went to the kitchen. "I'm making soup for myself."

"Oh, nice." Lumen scowled. He looked over to Doopliss. "Hey, wanna split a pizza?"

Lumen came back to the castle late that night. He went down a hall towards his room, and found Mario waiting there.

"Evening, Dad." Lumen greeted, unable to keep a certain irony out of his voice.

"More like night," Mario replied, gruffly. His face was a mixture of melancholy and some kind of anger… the usual appearance for the middle-aged man. "How… have you been?"

The two hadn't seen each other for a couple of months.

"Great." Lumen shrugged. "How's being King?"

"Full-time." Mario shrugged back. "How're the movies?"

Lumen's right eyebrow twitched. "Oh, they're great. Progressing. Moving along."

The conversation faded out, and a stale air filtered into the hall. When the dire silence reached its climax, Lumen made a move to pass his father.

"Well, I'm a bit tired, so…"

"Lumen...son…" A conflicted look crossed Mario's face. "I want to talk to you."

Lumen froze. "About what?"

"I'm getting older," Mario sighed, "I won't be king forever."

Lumen wanted out.

"I want to make sure that," Mario hesitated, "You are okay with the way things are going. With how things are going to be…"

"Everything seems fine to me." Lumen replied, tightly. "I'm happy."

Hesitation—

Mario's shoulders dropped. A tired smile drew across his face, the implied air behind it crushing. "Okay. Well. ...Goodnight, son."

Lumen held his breath, nodding awkwardly as he passed by Mario. "Good night. Dad."

Lumen returned to his room, shut the door, sat in the chair at his desk, and stared at the wall for three minutes.

Then he grabbed his camera.

One week before that (and so six days before Wendy killed her father and Lemmy became king of the Koopa Kingdom), Wendy and her devoted follower, tracking the strange sounds of a radio tuned to a mysterious frequency, arrived at the source of the noise.

This source was deep in the Valley of the Lilies, ultimately coming out of a cave nestled between two outcroppings of rock. Poisonous white flowers lined the outside face and ground of the area, leading like a carpet to the black crack in the wall.

"I'll go first," The follower exclaimed, out of a sense of excitement... and actual desire to protect the koopa princess.

It is now time to explain why this follower has not been named: his death was very sudden, and besides for helping Wendy with the radio, it seems he had little to do with the chain of events that preceded this journey to the Valley of the Lilies, and even less towards what followed.

For you see, not a minute after venturing into the cave, the follower was eaten by the thing inside.

Holding steady the flashlight she had brought with her, Wendy watched with a horrified fascination. Hands finally beginning to tremble, steadfastness breaking, she started to back away,

but,

"Wait."

Grotesque voice. Full of blood and flesh.

"Please."

The thing moved, and in the flashlight's beam, metal and glass glimmered all around.

Twenty-eight days later, many miles away in a land where the snow never stops, a similar sight:

Two figures emerge from a laboratory of metal and glass, one frantically nursing a horrible wound— a massive chunk of self missing from the left side.

The lead agent shakily brings a walkie-talkie to his mouth, a rotund package held at his side.

"The target is dead— it's over. Agent Orange is dead as well… We were caught off guard by a weapon the target had."

The agent readjusts the package at his side with a shaking arm, trying to ignore the faint sound of drum beats that is echoing in his head.

"Agent White has also been wounded. I have the item we were sent to acquire, as well as the aforementioned weapon with me…"

The lead agent pauses, looking out into the tundra below through a pair of shades.

"I have a strong urge to dispose of the weapon. I… to speak frankly, it gives me a terrible feeling…"

He listens as the person on the other end of the radio replies.

"Yes, madam." The agent says with resignation. "I will bring it back."

He listens to a last message, then puts the radio away. He stares out into the valley below where snow blows through the great crater created eighteen years earlier by the first atomic bomb.

The lead agent thinks to himself— a poem of some sort seems appropriate…

"Are we good?" Agent White gasps. "I could really use… some medical attention…"

The two depart by helicopter, a spot of black in a world of white.

* * *

 **/A/N/: I know this chapter is pretty short, but the next one is going to be pretty long (and really good), so it should balance out the average. So look forward to that.**

 **I really wanted to call this chapter "Another Day of Sun" (as a mirror to "Ticket to the Moon"), but after actually finishing it I realized it's a lot less cheerful and fun than I originally expected it to be. And this story is not quite the experiment in cynical irony that Mario's Crowbar was (Naming a chapter focusing on the protagonists embarking on a suicide mission "We Go Together"-after the jovial Grease song- comes to mind.)**

 **But anyway, hey- Thanks for reading and reviewing! Especially the guests and regular members I can't personally thank through PMs.**


	11. 11: LaP (Episode Luigi)

Chapter Eleven: Like A Prayer (Episode Luigi)

1995\. Mario and Princess Peach were married, making them king and queen of the Mushroom Kingdom. The wedding was beautiful. It seemed like everyone in the Mushroom Kingdom attended, and the full celebration lasted for a riotous week.

Luigi watched with happiness and resigned melancholy. He hid the feelings as well as he always did, but inside they could not be erased.

Luigi was twenty-nine then. Despite his age he had never met "the one". He was alone. He believed he would never find "the one". He believed this was it.

...And, perhaps most powerfully of all, he was finally _accepting_ this loneliness. He was happy enough: it made him happy to see his brother happy. He was a hero to a whole kingdom. He had saved many lives. He was accomplished in everything... besides love.

So after all, what was one deficient aspect of life? He could live without it. He didn't need love.

Ah, Princess Daisy. Yes, people loved to pair him with Daisy… but Luigi had never really been attracted to her. He had tried to fool himself into it, since everyone else seemed to expect they would get together (including Daisy herself), but Luigi had come to realize he was not happy doing that, and overall it was unfair to the Sarasaland princess. He had been selfish in his attempts to make the relationship work, knowing that it had been fake from the beginning. It hurt to leave Daisy in tears, but he had had no choice.

"You'll find someone someday, Luigi." Peach told him. "You're so sweet… You're funny."

"Oh, thanks…" Luigi grumbled.

"No!" Peach said seriously. "I mean it. That person is out there somewhere. Don't look for them… they'll just come."

"You have to keep searching," Mario advised another time. "Do what you love, and don't worry about it too much… but you have to make an effort to search."

"Oh Eld," Luigi complained. "Everyone gives me different advice."

"Sorry little bro," Mario put a warm hand on Luigi's shoulder, "But I know it'll come. You're a good guy."

So it was left. Luigi kept dating, running into people he held no real interest for. His life cycled on…

The world cycled on too, although it seemed to be entering a new era. Peach gave birth to a little boy and girl a few months after the wedding- not without a few raised eyebrows from the public. Elvin Gadd, a strange old man Luigi had never even heard of, created the atomic bomb and changed the rules of the world. And the Mushroom Kingdom wouldn't be aware until a few years later, but the blueprints for the fourth version of the device were already in the hands of the Koopa Kingdom by late 1999.

Five months before the Mushroom Kingdom found out about the theft, that time when Peach and her children were kidnapped by Bowser, and Mario saved Peach for the last time-

Mario himself was kidnapped.

The strange and still unclear events of the matter are best summarized:

Luigi won a mansion in a lottery. A lottery he had never entered. The mansion ended up being in the midst of a foreboding set of woods on the western edge of the Mushroom Kingdom, the Boo Woods. Luigi let Mario know about the strange letter he had received, and Mario set off to check out the place for his little brother... without telling him. Luigi arrived at the mansion three days later, after finding out Mario had disappeared.

"He's a King now," Yoshi had babbled, "Luigi, you need to find him, NOW."

Luigi threw a backpack on with an air of exasperation as he left Mushroom Castle. "I don't care about that. He's my brother."

The plot thickened. The mansion turned out to be full of ghosts, though there was one human on the premises— Elvin Gadd. Luigi caught him in the midst of trying to exorcise several ghosts using a vacuum cleaner.

"Good evening, Luigi," Gadd had greeted from the floor, knocked down by a few ghosts he had been hunting. "You're looking for your brother, aren't you?"

Gadd was on vacation in the swampy Boo Woods, a warmer and apparently more agreeable location than the wintry mountain base where he built his rockets.

He was also doing some research of some kind.

"These woods are full of ghosts, certainly," Gadd had explained, "I came here, in fact, to research ghosts… the paranormal. But that mansion…"

They could see it from Gadd's shack, set out on the front yard of the property: the mansion. An ungodly, towering, foreboding construction. It reeked of shadows and mystery.

"It appeared here only a few days ago," Gadd mused. "That is interesting, isn't it? Right about when you got that letter…"

"So someone set this up." Luigi said quietly. "To get to me?"

"Hmm." Gadd's eyes were hidden behind his swirled glasses.

"Why. Why?" Luigi tapped his fingers on one of the shack's dingy metal tables. "I'm no one. This place is not even near the Koopa Kingdom, either. Who would set this up?"

"'Who am I that I should go to Pharoah and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?'"

Luigi was staring at the wall. He snapped out of it and turned to Gadd with a furrowed brow. "Wait, what?"

"Some ghosts must have a bone to pick with you," Gadd said seriously. "And it looks like they've got your brother. Now, I'm too old to be fnord exorcising ghosts anymore, but you, you're young…"

"Right, well…" Luigi adjusted his cap. "Besides being a matter of national security, this is my brother. It's best I do it."

"Very good," Gadd chirped. "Let me teach you the technique."

Luigi was equipped with the vacuum, the Poltergust 3000, a cellular device called a Game Boy Horror, and sent off with a wave of the hand.

Luigi figured this wouldn't be too bad. He didn't like the idea of dealing with ghosts, but what was the worst that could happen?

Half-an-hour in, he called Gadd.

"Gadd," Luigi said as calmly as he could, "I know these people."

"Eh? What's that?"

"Neville," Luigi said tightly, "Lydia." He breathed deeply. "I used to know them."

"Eh? Really?"

And the baby. ...But Luigi didn't want to think about it.

"They lived near my family's home on Yoshi's Island. They… they died in a fire the year before Mario and I left to go to the Mushroom Kingdom. It was so fast…"

"That's awful, Luigi," Gadd said with less remorse and more encouragement, "Did… they try to communicate with you?"

"No."

Luigi was huddled up against one of the hallway's of the mansion, staring at a strip of ancient wallpaper uncurling from the wall. "Neville ignored me. He was just… reading something. I kept trying to get his attention, and...and he suddenly just screamed and attacked me. Lydia was… Lydia was no better."

The scratch-marks across Luigi's cheek still bled a little.

"Are you okay, Luigi?" Gadd asked. "Can you go on?"

"Of course I can go on!" Luigi snapped. "It's… I'm sorry. I'm a bit stressed out…"

"I understand completely. Why don't you come back to the shack for a moment? I'll cook you a meal, and you can unload those ghosts you captured… I can turn them into paintings."

So he did. So Gadd did. So they did.

Luigi and the old scientist talked over the meal of goulash, Gadd asking Luigi about his life, and Luigi tried to learn about Gadd. They met for half-an-hour, and by the time Luigi was returning to the mansion, he felt like he still didn't know anything about Gadd. The old man had deflected every question Luigi had asked, or kept the conversation from focusing on him- so that he had revealed basically nothing about himself.

There were many more ghosts on Luigi's second trip. Five humans. A dog. All people from Yoshi's Island, people from Luigi's childhood. This time, they were mostly people Luigi hadn't even known had died.

Each ghost he exorcised, sucking up into his vacuum, increased his fear. He was afraid who he was going to see next. What if Mario appeared as a ghost? What if Mario was already dead? Not to mention…

Things reached a pitch after Luigi sucked up his old family dog and woke up in the graveyard behind the mansion. Some horrible shadow rose from a grave and consumed Luigi as a fit of terror overcame him. Spinning and tumbling in the darkness the thing rushed towards him, and something inside of Luigi took control as his conscious mind disintegrated.

When it was all over, the thing was in the vacuum pack, and Luigi was doused in sweat, standing atop a grave, shaking.

"Luigi! Luigi! Are you there? I lost contact with you. Luigi? Luigi?"

"Gadd." Luigi whispered into the radio.

"Luigi?"

The two shared another meal as the portrificationizer went to work. Luigi wasn't that hungry. He limited himself to a glass of water, which almost tumbled from his trembling fingers.

"Luigi, are you okay?"

Gadd sounded concerned. He looked concerned.

"Gadd, what is going on?" Luigi's eyes wobbled as he looked to Gadd. "There was something evil… evil in there… I don't know if you should make a portrait t his time." He already felt nauseous about the portrait concept, but here especially...

"Tell me, Luigi." Gadd encouraged.

"It was a shadow."

Gadd waited.

"It was a shadow." Luigi repeated. He shook his head.

He didn't want to admit it, but seeing that thing was the most terrifying moment of his life. Never before had he so completely lost his senses.

"The shadow came from you, didn't it Luigi?"

Now that he thought about it, the shadow HAD leaked out from him.

"Yeah… that was just an illusion though…"

"Luigi, I have a theory," Gadd tapped his fingers together, "I believe this mansion… is a manifestation of your unconscious mind."

Luigi stared.

"These woods have always held an evil energy," Gadd described, "They always had potential… to cultivate bad energy. Somehow...for some reason… these woods called out to you, and are using your unconscious for energy. Making manifest your nightmares, your old memories…"

"Somehow." Luigi rolled the word around in his mouth. His grip tightened on the fork in his right hand.

"Luigi?"

"I think it's quite obvious," Luigi said slowly, "That you set all this up professor. Do you think I'm an idiot?"

Gadd raised his hands defensively. "Luigi. I assure you…"

"I want to believe you." Luigi said. "I know you're an ally of the Kingdom, that you build inventions for us. I used your time machine… for better or worse. I don't know why you would do this to me and my brother…"

"I am here for research," Gadd insisted. "Let me show you."

What he showed Luigi appeared to be a simple drum, but there was something fundamentally wrong with it… For one thing, it appeared oily.

When Luigi reached out to touch it, Gadd smacked his hand away. "Don't. It's full of spiritual energy."

"...Spiritual energy." Luigi repeated.

"Scientifically calculated, of course," Gadd shut the small chest the drum was in. "If it comes out right, it'll be my greatest invention of all, bar none."

"And what will it do?"

Gadd smiled, showing off his mostly toothless mouth. "Luigi, what is the basis of the universe?"

Luigi frowned.

"Let me put it another way," Gadd cocked his head, "If you could control one thing in the universe, one thing supreme to all others… What would it be?"

Luigi's frown deepened. "I don't know, but that sounds too powerful…"

"I'll let you think about it." Gadd patted Luigi on the back. "I'm sure you'll find your brother this time."

So Luigi went back in. He didn't entirely trust Gadd anymore, but he had little choice in regards to the rescue of his brother- after all, Gadd had provided the same vacuum Luigi was using.

Another seven ghosts, captured. Then, a gigantic mass of boos. The enemy was enormous, but an easy catch after the shadow.

"Those were the first boos I saw in the mansion," Luigi told Gadd after returning for another break. "It's surprising… I thought I would have seen other boos by that point, being a ghostly mansion…"

"Ah, Luigi, you're being racist," Gadd chuckled, "Boos are not really ghosts, but a species! This is a real haunted mansion, full of real ghosts. I'm surprised you saw any boos at all."

Luigi decided not to bring up the fact that they were in the "Boo Woods".

"I guess I disturbed them…" Luigi drew off.

He was feeling better about the search, even in seeing the different humans, who he was no longer recognizing. They still held some familiarity about them, but not directly remembering them made everything much easier.

"Well, there's not much of the mansion left, eh Luigi?" Gadd smiled. "One more time should do it."

"Tell me about the thing you're building," Luigi said, "I want to know. I thought about it… does it control space or something? I thought time, but you already built a time machine…"

"No no," Gadd shook his head, "Space and time are the same thing, Luigi. No, there's something even more fundamental. Think about what it actually is."

"It's a drum," Luigi said with a bit of irk. "What? Does it control _music_?"

Gadd chuckled. "You're getting closer."

The last trip into the mansion seemed it would be the easiest at first. At least, until Luigi encountered a little ghost girl named Sue, who was evidently the ghost of Luigi's first love, or at least crush. What was that relationship? Pure childhood love, in the end.

"You're not real," Luigi repeated as he sucked the screaming girl into his vacuum, "You're a figment of my memory… You're just from my mind."

He had largely forgotten about her, though, and remembering her death tore open old, deep wounds. Luigi was all broken up again as he left the bedroom, steely eyed.

"Just a little more."

He went to the depths of the basement, and then the top of the house. When he had explored every room but the last, in a corner of the attic, his heart began hammering again. He knew something bad was going to happen.

But when Luigi unlocked the door, he found, comfortingly, a room full of paintings. It was incredibly charming, and reminded Luigi of his old interest in the art, which he had abandoned when he was younger.

"It eez you."

A tall ghost man wearing a beret emerged from the darkness, a grim look on his face. "Luigi."

Luigi's mouth dropped open. "You can talk." None of the others had.

"Yes." The ghost nodded. "You might say...I am the only reel ghost in this mansion."

Luigi shook his head. Something was wrong. This was a trap.

He backed up. "What's going on? What…?"

He looked left and right. There had to be...a...trap…?

"There is no trap here, Luigi." The ghost came closer, a small, sad smile on the stern ghosts face. "Bambini, I just want to talk."

"No," Luigi rasped. "No. Oh no." The vacuum slacked in his hands.

"Luigi…"

"You can't do this." Luigi's lips trembled. "No. Haven't I done enough…?"

"Luigi, please." The old man opened his arms in appeal. "I just wanted to talk. That's why I invited you here…"

"You're not real." Luigi said. "You're not real. You… are dead."

"Yes." The ghost smiled frankly. "I am a ghost, after all."

"You left us. You left our family." Luigi grabbed at his own hat. "Mama broke down. We had no money. You…"

"I'm sorry." The ghost said earnestly. "I…"

"You bastard." Luigi picked the vacuum up and pointed it straight at the ghost. "Mama died because of you. I prayed the same had happened to you… and…"

"Well, you got your wish. And I understand."

"You don't understand." Luigi ground out. "You didn't understand me or Mario. You were disgusted by us. Your little mistakes, weren't we? And you're part of my imagination. You're not a real ghost."

"Bambini…"

"Don't call me that!" Luigi howled.

All the old pain that Luigi thought he had shed was rushing back, the things he had escaped from his teenage years. But no… one glance at his father, and he was a helpless child again. He was not a real man at all. If this thing was always inside of him, then he must have always seemed so weak as he was now.

"Okay," Luigi breathed, "Of course this would be the end."

"Please, Luigi," The ghost came closer, "I want to talk."

"No," Luigi stuttered, "You want to criticize me. You want to destroy me like you did all those years ago…"

"I want to make you a man!" The ghost thundered. "I don't want to be ashamed of you. I always said you should be more like your brother, and that demand holds true still!"

"I am stronger than you could ever know." Luigi whispered. "If you were real, you'd be a weak, bent over thing… my mind aged you, but it didn't add the years of torment you must have gone through after you ran away, alone, you bastard…"

As Luigi spoke the ghost transformed, its back arcing, curving forward, a cane appearing from ephemeral shadows. Teeth fell out of the ghost's mouth, and the stern look on the phantasm's face was replaced by a forlorn distress. "Luigi, please…"

"You raised us right at first, but you were rotten at the core. You spoke to us in terms of noble values, and maybe you even lived some of them yourself, but in the end you were a bad father."

"You only say that," The ghost wheezed, "Because Mario ended up right and you didn't! He followed my instructions…"

"Wrong." Luigi shook his head. "Mario hated you even more than I did, and he struggled to surpass and succeed you. He turned outward while I turned inward. He succeeded where I…"

The ghost glimmered.

"No!" Luigi shouted. "I'm a hero too. I struggled and I fought my fights… I've saved lives, I've rescued the Princess… I'm a person too. I'm a person too. No matter what you made me think, no matter what you made me carry in my life."

Luigi shook his head. "I am beyond you now."

The ghost recognized something and a mask of terror fell over its face. "Luigi, bambini, no…"

With a roar Luigi turned the Poltergust on. The suction force latched on to the ghost, and with a primordial shriek the ghoul ripped upright, turning into a pure flash of blue. The piercing light pulled Luigi across the room, knocking over paintings and tipping buckets, spilling colors everywhere.

The struggle lasted for a full minute. The ghost was finally sucked away, and with a last punch of force Luigi was knocked head-over-heels crashing into the room's back wall. A torrent of framed paintings fell onto him, pictures of the same numerous faces he had come across in his search through the mansion and seemingly hundreds beyond, all falling upon him now.

Within some black void he fell, and here was the one face he hadn't seen but he surely recognized…

"Mama?"

The light overwhelmed him.

When he opened his eyes he was looking up at the night sky, crowned and circled by a ring of dead trees reaching up from the boggy swamp. Luigi stood up and looked around, and found he was in the midst of an empty clearing.

There was one painting left beside him…

"Mario!" Luigi cried, falling to his knees beside the portrait. "No… how…?"

Mario's head was bowed, cap slipping. His face was not visible.

"Mario...Mario…" Luigi shook the painting. "Mario."

Someone was coming: a terribly old man wearing a wrinkled grimace. "Congratulations, Luigi. You've won."

Luigi shook his head. "Why is he in a painting. Gadd?" He looked up, tears in his eyes. "Why is he in a painting, Gadd?!"

"Don't worry, Luigi." Gadd said slowly, "Mario is fine."

"He's in a painting." Luigi rose up in one single sleek motion. "How did that happen?"

"I have something I want to say…"

Luigi grabbed violently at the air. "I want to strangle you, Gadd. Give me a reason not to."

"You're better than that. You're a hero." Gadd smiled. "You wouldn't strangle a harmless old man."

Luigi chuckled, shadows careening off his face. "You are just about the _most harmful_ old man I have ever met. Everything you build ends up harming people."

"False." Gadd replied. "I would say that tonight I've helped you immensely."

"Tonight?" Luigi scoffed. "It's been…"

He stopped.

"It's only been one night, Luigi," Gadd said humorously. "Can you see the light on the horizon? 'It's always darkest before the dawn…'".

Luigi frowned. "Whatever. What about Mario? Before I have you arrested, or I knock your lights out (I haven't quite decided), I want you to change Mario back. Now."

Gadd gestured dismissively. "He has time. I want to talk to you, Luigi. I want you to understand…"

"You cleared out my head or something, right?" Luigi said exasperatedly. "You… set all of this up to purify my conscience or some shit."

"No need to cuss," Gadd smiled, "But very good. I always seem to underestimate the intelligence of others…"

"Yeah," Luigi's mustache bristled, "And I can swear all I goddamn want. I've had the worst night of my life, thanks to you."

"But now…" Gadd wagged a finger, "You'll be the better for it."

"Fuck. You." Luigi growled, surprised at the newfound hostility emanating from him. "Why me?"

"Difficult times are coming. Mario didn't need it… and I wanted to even things up. If I had time I would have prepared similar trials for the royal prince and princess, once their times came…"

"Who do you think you are?" Luigi asked breathlessly. "To do something like this?"

Gadd took a deep breath, and looked Luigi straight in the face. "Would you believe me if I said I were your grandfather?"

Luigi grit his teeth.

"No."

Gadd chuckled and looked above at the stars. "Good. I was just kidding, of course…"

Luigi stared at the old man, deciding not to push it. He really didn't want to know.

"Are you done now?" Luigi settled on. "I figured out the riddle. Now can we resuscitate my brother? ...Oh, hell."

Luigi picked up the painting and turned back towards the shack. "I know how to work the damn thing myself."

Gadd smiled.

When Mario was back to his normal self, Luigi explained a general outline of what had happened over the last day, without mentioning the personal nature of the ghosts.

"So Gadd set it all up," Luigi finished, "I say we toss him in old man jail."

Mario sighed.

"Luigi, I agreed to this."

Luigi winced. "What?"

"Gadd assured me it would be therapeutic for you in some way…"

"Mario." Luigi croaked.

Behind Mario, Gadd tinkered with some device. He walked over to join the brothers, still holding what looked like two corkscrews bound together with twine.

"Luigi, even if you hated this experience so much that you would want to lock me up, I think you'd find it quite the waste of time." Gadd smiled. "I have terminal cancer. I doubt I have more than a year to live."

(A week later, after Mario and Luigi had returned to the capital, and Gadd was satisfied that a patrol of guards would not be coming to claim him, the scientist finished what he had come to the woods to do.

The ghost paintings were beautiful, but they were only a sacrifice in the end. With the careful cut of a precise knife, Gadd peeled off the most integral parts of each frame, removing the core spiritual energy that was contained. Collecting the fragments of wood, through a blend of honest carpenter-ship and morally troubling ceremony, he lined the sides of his secret drum with the wood, covering the mystical yggdrasil wood already inside.

What was created was even more than Gadd had expected.

Even before the final touches, the drum had begun to echo and beat without touch...)

Weeks later, Luigi determined to forget the whole mansion incident- at least where Gadd was involved. It was true that the old snake was inherently tied into the gears of the Mushroom Kingdom.

And maybe the old man had done something for him, after all… Luigi had been feeling more confident about everything since his experience, lighter on his feet.

One night, not long after, Luigi dreamed he was back in the mansion. The hundreds of paintings were again crashing down onto him, faces recognized and unrecognized. Beyond them all, coming from above, the person who—

No. In place of his mother… there was someone else. An unfamiliar face, a woman Luigi had never seen before- but made his heart feel like it was bleeding.

"Who are you?" Luigi asked, but he felt he was underwater, and no sound came out. The angelic woman with the gleaming blonde hair and blue eyes, only her left eye visible through her bangs, was descending out of the painting above. The borders broke away and the stars in the black background scattered into the ether all around. The woman opened her arms in embrace.

Luigi reached up, struggling to meet her. "Who..."

He woke up.

His eyes were wet, but he couldn't remember what he had been dreaming about.

He had a strong urge to go stargazing as well.

He hurried to the storage room of the castle, where after some searching, he dug out his old telescope from when he was a boy. He hurried outside and went atop a hill near the castle. It was a perfect night.

For the next few years, stargazing became an almost nightly hobby for Luigi, who with the relative peace between the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms (and no girlfriend) had little else to do.

He painted as well.

One day: "You paint?" Mario asked, disbelievingly. "Let me see."

Luigi stood aside, giving Mario a view of the canvass.

"Dang, Luigi," Mario smiled, "That's pretty good. Since when did you paint?"

"This is easy," Luigi gestured to the image-the shining moon hanging in the sea of stars-"I still have a lot to learn…"

"Huh!" Mario scoffed. "It's a lot better than I could do."

Luigi shrugged and returned to painting.

"Luigi…" Mario said after a moment, "You've been disappearing. I've hardly seen you…"

"You're the king, Mario." Luigi smiled wryly. "And the kingdoms are at peace. I should say it's not surprising we don't see each other so much anymore."

"Ah, but still Luigi," Mario smiled, "I would think I would just see you around more… Ever since Professor Gadd died you've been distant. I think you were better friends than you let on."

Luigi growled. "We were not friends."

"Alright, alright Luigi…" Mario raised his hands. "No need to be hostile about it."

"Mario," Luigi looked back with a sudden desperation, "Can you just leave me alone? Can you just go away?"

Mario gaped. "Luigi…"

"This is my quiet time, Mario," Luigi said softly, "I just need to be alone."

In the past, Luigi would have regretted the harsh words and awkwardly apologized hours later. But Luigi knew what he had said was merely the truth— more than wanting, he needed to be alone. His brother still stirred up bitter feelings within him, which he couldn't realistically control except by being alone.

And- four years passed in a flash. Luigi dedicated himself to stargazing and painting, becoming a relative expert in both. He sold his paintings at market, and occasionally donated astronomical data he collected to the local observatory.

He dreamed a few more times of the woman descending from the heavens, usually about once a year. The woman seemed to come closer and closer to embracing Luigi. It was like a promise, time nearing further and further to the moment. It gave Luigi hope.

Early 2004. An era of peace stretching from Bowser's final kidnapping of Peach in 2000 was about to come to an end. The world lay in a kind of apprehensive silence that came about whenever things seemed to be going right for just too long, a recognition that the pendulum had to come swinging back with a necessary and destructive force.

Luigi was one of the few people who didn't notice. The stars above were virtually eternal, moving in their concentric rounds with a lovely dependability that did not exist on earth. Luigi might never find his love, but he could always return out to the hill at night and gaze up, and find the same cast of stars always looking back.

And there- the grand piece of the entire picture, the Moon. That gleaming sphere, poetic eye of God.

One night a memory resurfaced in Luigi's mind, a seemingly unimportant event from his time in the mansion that now rolled around his mind unceasingly.

In the darkest part of the night, shortly after Luigi had battled the shadow and nearly lost his wits, he had come across an observatory room in the middle of the mansion. Looking through a telescope pointing out a mansion window, Luigi had seen the moon. The moment he had backed away from the telescope, wondering if there was anything to be found in the room, the wall beside the telescope faded away, and small bits of stardust had come raining down from outside, as the room now seemed to stand at the edge of black space.

"What did you do? Why did you do it?"

Luigi's brow furrowed. "I didn't know what else to do. I saw the moon there, so beautiful and perfect, and it reminded me of my situation… how bleak and dark and terrible everything had turned out. I was… I was jealous. Jealous of the moon. It sounds so stupid to say, but it's the truth. I was jealous of the moon, and I wanted to destroy it. So I sucked up one of the small stars falling from the void with my vacuum, and I pointed it at the moon, and I released the suction… and the shining star went flying, perfectly, it collided with the moon and destroyed it."

"You shot the moon."

"But it was only in my mind." Luigi tapped his head. "It wasn't the real moon. Sure enough, when the mansion had vanished and I was back outside with Mario, the moon was still there up in the sky. I hadn't really done it… When all the stress was gone, and my battles were over, I was glad it hadn't really happened. To be responsible for destroying something so precious and important… and for no real reason… it would be terrible."

The angel smiled. "I too, am glad you didn't do it."

Luigi blinked. He realized his head was resting on a lap, his cap gone. His hair was being brushed by a woman in blue, with blonde hair and light blue eyes, a bang over the right…

"It's you." Luigi gasped.

"Luigi, my cherished." The woman smiled. "It's so good to see you again."

"Wh, where...?" Luigi sat upright and looked around.

He was on a starship, floating in space. A starship _open_ to space, holding several towers, a little park with grass and trees nearby, and a great energy core storing what appeared to be a small star.

"You'll remember in time." The cosmic woman stood up and gestured gracefully. "The Comet Observatory."

The name was familiar, like something Luigi had read in a book somewhere.

"We're orbiting your planet's moon as we speak."

Luigi shook his head and approached the woman. "Please, tell me who you are. At least that much, just your name… I feel like I've been looking for you all my life…"

The glowing woman smiled a little wider, and it felt like home. "Rosalina."

"Rosalina." The name was like honey in Luigi's mouth. "Rosalina Rosalina Rosalina…" So sweet, precious… what a strange feeling he was sure he'd never experienced before, but felt like he'd always had somewhere.

"Just Rosalina." She turned. "Follow me."

They began a tour of the Observatory. Luigi had hardly made it halfway across a patch of green before he was accosted by a swarm of what appeared to be little fat squealing stars. "Luiigiiiii!" They cried, tackling him.

"Hey hey hey!" Luigi pushed back at the star kids playfully. "How do you little guys know my name?"

"Papa Luigi's back! Someone tell Asteria!"

Rosalina raised a hand. "No. Not yet."

The star children stopped attentively, turning with smiles to their mother.

"Luigi needs to settle in first."

"Yes mama!" The children all seemed to cry out.

"Please," Luigi sighed, "Can someone just tell me what is going on?"

Rosalina moved through the sea of star children and held out her hand to Luigi. His look of surprise made her giggle, and Luigi, blushing now, took it.

"It will be better if you remember on your own, slowly." Rosalina explained. "So I will tell you piece by piece."

"Ten years ago, the Blue Planet's year 1994, the most important event in all of our lives took place."

"The most important event?" Luigi scratched at his head. "Er…?"

The time traveling incident immediately came to mind.

"Luigi and Mario met Mama and saved the universe!" A star kid crowed.

Rosalina sighed, laughing a little. "Why don't you all go play? You'll have plenty of time with Papa Luigi later."

Despite her reserved nature, the star kids were strongly attentive to her every word. They obeyed quickly, waving goodbye to Luigi and flying up away to the higher parts of the spacecraft.

"Nice kids." Luigi smiled. Like a mobile cloud of Solas, without that ever present sense that you were actually interacting with a force of nature. ...Ironically enough.

"They are Lumas," Rosalina explained, "Children of the stars. It is their fate to live brilliant bright lives as children… before they became great stars and planets. Inert."

The sudden sadness in her tone surprised Luigi. "Oh."

The star woman turned her head apologetically, left eye flashing beside her bang. "I am sorry. I have a tendency to say… melancholic things sometimes. The Lumas are very happy here, they live the best lives possible before it is time for their ascendance."

Luigi smiled. "Well, they're happier than any children I've ever seen."

"Yes." Rosalina agreed, but the affirmation stuck out oddly. She was hesitating on the edge of something.

"What is it?" Luigi asked kindly.

Rosalina shook her head. "It is nothing. Please, let's keep walking."

Their hands had detached, so Rosalina reached out and grabbed Luigi's this time. The clasp was far more natural now.

When the tour was over, Luigi was shown to his own room on a lower level of the observatory. He still wasn't sure what was happening, but he was too tired and happy to demand an explanation. He fell asleep to the sound of the star children fluttering outside the windows of his little hut, giggling.

Over the next two weeks, the story came back to Luigi in pieces, both appearing in his memory as he walked throughout the Observatory, and by what Rosalina told him.

Nine years ago, in 1995, Rosalina had come back from a far stretch of the galaxy to see her home, the Blue Planet, again. To face again what she had fled from. Centuries now past, she found a different threat from her long-deceased family: the Koopa Kingdom.

"The Koopa King, Bowser, had unearthed Shroob technology from when they had invaded the Blue Planet decades before. I recognized its energy the moment it had latched onto my ship... and was soon relieved to find only a koopa at the other end of the force, rather than a Shroob."

Rosalina smiled. "Still, it was overwhelming. Shroob technology is powered by dark energy- outrageously advanced and blighted."

"I do not know what exactly Bowser was planning to do by projecting that energy into outer space, but I do know that when he found he had accidentally captured an advanced space station, the Observatory, he intended to take it for himself. He locked my ship into the Blue Planet's orbit, and sent rockets with soldiers out to capture us."

"Your people, Luigi, of the Mushroom Kingdom, recognized that something was happening- that the Koopa Kingdom had captured something bizarre above the planet, and was in the process of capturing it. But your people did not know the details of the situation, that my Observatory had been forcibly dragged above the Koopa Kingdom, from one spacial territory to another. Thus, there was nothing they could officially could do."

"My technology here, although mostly existing for the peaceful purposes of fostering the Lumas… has immense capability for darker purposes. Bowser recognized this potential, and once he had captured the Observatory, wielded it to wage war on the Mushroom Kingdom, and capture Princess Peach."

"You, Luigi… and Mario, would save your princess and your people once again. But the effort would be more costly than ever before, and a number of dark secrets would be uncovered." Rosalina turned away. "Secrets to the universe not fit for mortal minds... or at least, unprepared minds. And secrets of a personal nature, that could kill true love."

Luigi grimaced. "What are you talking about?"

"Mario and Peach. Something would be found out."

Rosalina looked out at the Blue Planet's horizon. "Something that would destroy their relationship, and threaten the stability of your entire planet. I had no choice but to..."

She smiled bitterly. "...But I do not want to talk about such things. The terrible was lost, but so was the wonderful. Like us."

"Like us?" Luigi clenched his teeth. "But what did you do, Rosalina? Our memories…?"

"Erased. Gone. Everyone from the Blue Planet- I destroyed your memories, of everything that happened once my Observatory was pulled into your planets orbit to the time that I escaped months later… and replaced the events with false, bland memories."

Luigi shook his head. "So you're saying we had something… together… and you erased it?"

"No!" Rosalina's eyes widened. "No, Luigi. It all still happened. If you still don't remember… let me bring them back."

The celestial woman reached forward, index finger outstretched.

"No." Luigi said sharply. "Stop. You're just going to bring them back now? You've decided I'm now _allowed_ to remember the most important moments of my life?"

"Luigi..."

"I've been so alone." Luigi's eyes narrowed. "I thought I was the only person in the world without a lover... for almost my entire life… and you were flying through space all along. How could you?"

"You don't understand, Luigi." Rosalina sighed. "It's a cosmic matter..."

"A cosmic matter!" Luigi spluttered. "What bullshit! A cosmic matter!"

Some of the little star children floated up from somewhere. "Mama? Is everything okay?" The fearful looks they threw towards Luigi angered the man even more.

"No, not everything is okay." Luigi growled. "Your 'mama'..."

"Luigi." Rosalina's voice had narrowed considerably. She was giving him a serious look.

"Oh Eld..." Luigi clapped a hand to his forehead. He turned away and started walking.

"Where are you going, Luigi?" Rosalina called.

"I'm going to take a walk."

Asteroids, black holes, clusters, comets, constellations, galaxies, moons, planets, quasars, solar systems, stars, supernovae, UNIVERSE

Somewhere on the far edge of the Observatory, Luigi came across a young girl.

She appeared to be around thirteen or fourteen years old, with the same luminescent hair as Rosalina, but a darker expression on her face. She was sitting on an outcropping of wall beneath another tower, this one with a bricked dome atop it. Her dress was simple: somewhat sparkling and lean like Rosalina's, but with a murky but smooth color of lighter green. Two lumae played near her, dancing about, but with somewhat less energy than was common to the species.

"Hmm." The girl murmured upon Luigi's arrival, not looking up.

"Hmm yourself." Luigi replied.

The girl smirked, still looking down at her bare feet, hanging above open space. "You're our visitor, huh?"

"Yep." Luigi shrugged. "I guess so. Didn't realize there was anyone else onboard this ship."

The girl smiled and leaned back, one blue eye closed. "Ha. You… don't know who I am, do you?"

The obvious, shockingly unpleasant answer, briefly floated into Luigi's consciousness before being pushed back down into ignorance. "No, I don't."

He made a gesture to sit down beside the girl.

She shrugged. "Go ahead."

Continuing on: "Yes, there's two of us above this Observatory. I am Asteria. Rosalina is my mother."

"A pretty name..." Luigi said softly.

"Yes."

Asteria still had one eye closed, looking over to Luigi. "My father named me."

"...You speak just like Rosalina does." Luigi said quickly, and feeling a small sweat beginning.

"I speak like my mother, and that is surprising… why?"

The girl's straightforward pointedness again reminded Luigi of Mario's daughter Sola, but with an additional aria of shadow. Perhaps he was only imagining it because of the truth of their relationship, something he was trying to ignore, but…

Wait, wait, wait, what was he trying to ignore?

"...Luigi..." Asteria slid the word around not without distaste. "A silly name, without much meaning, right?"

"Hey."

 _She already knows._ Luigi thought, _She already knows that thing I'm really really trying to ignore, and she doesn't even care. Maybe she shouldn't, maybe she's known her whole life about me, and finally meeting me is just another small milestone in the whole affair…_

"Luigi, my father." The nine-year-old closed her eyes. "Oh stars. Lu-i-gi."

A pause followed.

"You look older than you are." Luigi said uselessly.

"Living in space does strange things to a human being's development." Asteria's lip curled. "If people like me and my mother can still be called human."

"So, ten years ago..."

"Yes." Asteria looked out onto the blanket of stars before them. "My mother banished you and your friends from this place, leaving herself alone and pregnant. With your child. Me."

Luigi took a deep breath.

"She told me about you as early as I could understand, which was fairly young... as a person in space. I hated you for a long while, because it was a lot easier than blaming the person who actually sent you away… But then I had to accept the truth, and realize it was my mother, my sole protector, who had cut my life in half. ...What a truth."

"It wasn't all that bad, was it?"

"You must think this place is very beautiful." Asteria threw her head, and her hair moved in a kind of slow motion. "But you really don't know… how it is. How it really is here."

She pushed herself off the ledge.

Luigi yelped, and then watched as a bubble ensconced the girl, bringing her back floating to a nearby platform.

"This place is entirely protected by a gravity bubble." Nova shrugged. "Perfectly safe."

To make a long story short, Luigi came to understand Rosalina's actions as he remembered the events of what had happened ten years ago.

He came to recognize that the decision to erase everyone's memory had truly been a necessary one.

And for the next three years, everything was perfect. Time ceased to exist. Later on, it was hard for Luigi to even remember what precisely had happened, besides being with Rosalina in the swirl of space.

One night, he found her out looking at the stars from the highest point of the Observatory, a place known as the Garden.

Rosalina's voice was cool and cut: "It will be time for you to go back to the Blue Planet soon, Luigi."

Luigi faltered. "What?"

"I must go out into the farther reaches of the galaxy again soon." Rosalina looked deep into his eyes. "There are things, as the Star Mother, I must take care of. Cosmic matters."

The old phrase crawled into Luigi's mind, like some roach that had disappeared into the walls of the house and had, days later, suddenly floated up in a soup bowl.

"Cosmic matters."

"And you, my heart…" Rosalina bit her lip. "This is not your place. The cold reaches of outer space, where great machinations grind and Shapes float… it is not your world. You could not survive there."

"I can survive anything." Luigi replied roughly. "As long as I was with you."

Rosalina shook her head. "Love is powerful. But there are stronger things still."

Luigi was stunned.

Rosalina closed her eyes. "Things that no people should know of."

"I will know about it." Luigi slammed a fist onto the balcony. "With you."

"No." Rosalina replied. "No. And if you won't do this for me…" Rosalina looked at him seriously. "You must do it for Celeste. Our second child."

His world swam before his eyes.

"There can only be one successor to the Observatory, Luigi," Rosalina continued, "And Asteria has already been training for that role her entire life. She has already been… shaped by space, to a significant degree. I don't want that for Celeste. I want Celeste to live a 'normal' life on the Blue Planet, a peaceful life..."

"A peaceful life!" Luigi uttered. "Our planet… no. It's not peaceful, it's anything but. We only obtained a little peace after years of bloody wars, but I bet even that won't last…"

"It's better than this, Luigi." Rosalina looked intently at him. "You must listen and trust me. She must not be twisted into this life. Especially when Asteria is already herself a sacrifice..."

Her eyes wavered, and moved to look beyond Luigi- widened, and closed slowly.

"What?" Luigi turned.

Asteria was floating there, a blank expression on her face. "Ah…"

"You knew all of this already." Rosalina said. "There is no reason to react now."

"It seems like a good time to react." Asteria's lips twitched. "And I did not know that...Luigi was going to be leaving again."

"You did know that."

"I did not know that."

"You did know that."

"I'm _not_ leaving." Luigi interjected in the midst of the dysfunctional conversation. "We are a family..."

"Your family is on the Blue Planet, Luigi."

The sudden harshness again stunned Luigi into silence.

"Didn't..." Luigi struggled. "Didn't any of this mean anything? Our time together… I know it did. We love each other..."

"I do love you, Luigi," Rosalina sighed, "But you don't know what love means, from someone like me. I love the celestial bodies, I love the star children, I love the cosmos..."

"I'm just the same as all that?"

Asteria trembled. "At least you can say you made the list." She stiffened and floated downward, disappearing into a corridor of the Observatory.

"Asteria!" Rosalina almost rose her voice. When she saw that the girl was not coming back, she sighed again and turned to Luigi. "Her behavior is only the outermost layer of deep space's effects."

"I don't think Asteria's problem is 'deep space'." Luigi said angrily. "I think it's that her mother doesn't care about her."

Rosalina seemed hurt. "Luigi..."

"After spending three years with you… I know that I felt your love. I bathed in it." Luigi ground his teeth. "I lost sense of everything. But that poor girl… I was blinded by my own happiness, so I didn't even notice what a position she was in. How little you cared for her."

"This coming from her own father." Rosalina replied. "And what did you do for her?"

"I tried my best, as I was consciously aware!" Luigi squeezed his fists shut. "And if I had lived with her for her entire life, if I hadn't met her when she was already nine and some kind of distant genius, I would have a much tighter bond with her. I think we can say that much, can't we?"

Rosalina bit her lip.

"I want to stay, Rosalina."

"You can't."

"I want to stay, god damn it."

Rosalina blinked, and a tear trickled down the left side of her face. "The cycle repeats itself..."

Luigi's mouth crumpled with resignation.

"Are you going to erase my memories again?" He asked coldly.

"No." Rosalina shook her head. "No, but you must promise. You must promise not to tell the people of the Blue Planet of any of this. It would destabilize everything… They cannot know of the cosmic order… of what happened twelve years ago… or of me."

"I already know that. And what happens when they see Celeste?"

Rosalina smiled. "Make up a story. Or say nothing at all. Refuse to speak. It doesn't matter. Just don't tell them."

He knew he would refuse to go. And he knew she would refuse to let him stay. And he knew that she would force him, through her magical science and scientific magic to land back on the Blue Planet holding his second daughter, Celeste, who he would raise as her father, who would be the real daughter he never had, his family- unlike poor Asteria who was destined for an incomprehensible, lonely fate, or Rosalina, who was already entrapped in it and by some necessity deigned by cosmic fate or her own personal god remained distant from all people, including her only love.

"My business will take seven years. In seven years I will return to the Blue Planet, Luigi… and then, I swear it: We will never part again."

He found himself holding little Celeste, bundled up in a plain cloth... before the stars twisted and twirled and turned (not in a sickly way but a gorgeously cosmic way) and then he was there, in the forest, back in the Mushroom Kingdom, with a heart ten times heavier.

Seven years passed. Things happened. In 2014, Luigi returned to his old habit of stargazing, looking symbolically for the love that he had found, lost, returned to, and been separated from yet again.

Somewhere out there, in the reaches of space, she was there. And if her promise was true, she was now closer than ever.

One night, late in the year, Luigi was looking through the telescope when a familiar voice interrupted him.

"Are you looking for mother, dad?"

It was Celeste, seven-years-old. Shockingly intelligent. But…

"How did you know…?"

Luigi had never told Celeste anything about her mother besides who she had been, her appearance, and that she had been lost. Nothing about space.

"I found her."

Celeste was serious.

"What... do you mean?"

Celeste tapped her head then pointed up into the sky. "Using the rhythms. I found her. She's coming here."

"She spoke to you?" Luigi pulled a little at his beard. He hadn't felt like this in a long time.

"Two weeks." Celeste said solemnly, with that distinct, distant look in her eyes.


	12. -Notes-

-Notes-

*SPOILER WARNING: This -Notes- page will always be kept one chapter behind the latest updated chapter, and may contain information from said chapter! Please make sure to read the latest chapter before coming to the -Notes- page!*

 **Last Updated: July 16th, 2018 (Chapter Twelve)** \- Timeline updated.

Timeline

1150:

+The language of Old Shroom is slowly replaced by Middle Shroom (itself later replaced by Modern Shroom).

1544:

+The Opisthokont Empire is founded. Slavery is one of the core institutions of the empire.

1830:

+The Mushroom Kingdom is founded after it splits off from the disintegrating Opisthokont Empire.

1840:

+Remnants of the Opisthokont Empire collate into the Koopa Kingdom and the tiny Sprixie Confederation.

1927:

+Elvin Gadd is born.

1966:

+Bowser Koopa is born.

+Mario and Luigi are born.

+("Yoshi's Island" takes place.)

1967:

+Peach Toadstool is born.

1968:

+Toadbert is born.

+The Shroobs invade the Mushroom Kingdom for the first time.

+Princess Peach from 1994 travels back in time (for unknown reasons) and is kidnapped by the Shroobs. Mario & Luigi travel back in time to save her, and end up ending the First Shroob War.

+The young Bowser Koopa sees the time traveling Peach, beginning his infatuation with her.

+(Most of "Mario & Luigi: Partners in Time" takes place.)

1976:

+Ludwig Koopa is born.

1977:

+Lemmy Koopa is born.

1979:

+Iggy Koopa is born.

1980:

+Wendy Koopa is born.

1981:

+Morton Koopa Jr. is born.

1983:

+Bowser Koopa Jr. is born.

1984:

+Bowser meets Princess Peach for the first time as an adult. After she rejects him, he decides to kidnap her.

1985:

+Mario saves Princess Peach from Bowser for the first time.

+("Super Mario Bros." takes place.)

1986:

+Bowser organizes an outdoor gathering to celebrate his second kidnapping of Princess Peach. Wendy and Lemmy are cruelly bullied, but afterwards share a special bond, with Lemmy promising to protect Wendy "forever".

+("New Super Mario Bros." takes place.)

1989:

+("Paper Mario" takes place.)

1990:

+The koopalings fight against the Mario Bros. for the first time. Wendy Koopa is fierce and confident, but being ten-years-old, gets thrashed.

+("Super Mario Bros.3" takes place.)

1991:

+In Dinosaur Land the koopalings fight against the Brothers again, this time without enthusiasm. Wendy, scared, turns to Lemmy for help. They both decide to no longer fight against the Brothers, giving up early in their battles.

+Luigi treats Wendy somewhat gently in Dinosaur Land, and she begins to develop feelings for him.

+("Super Mario World" takes place.)

1992:

+The witch Cackletta comes from the Beanbean Kingdom to the Mushroom Kingdom and steals Princess Peach's voice. This kicks off a series of events that for the koopalings results in crippling injuries that last for the next year. Wendy nearly dies and goes into a coma for a few months. She comes out a different person- apparently finding religion, along with a deeper interest in Luigi.

+("Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga" takes place.)

+Later that year Bowser invades Mushroom Castle and takes over for two weeks. He's beaten and kicked out again anyway.

+("Super Mario 64" takes place.)

1993:

+("Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door" takes place.)

1994:

+Peach, Toadbert, and Toadiko travel back in time to the First Shroob War in 1968, using Gadd's time machine. They are unable to change the events of the past, and have to be rescued by Mario & Luigi.

+(Part of "Mario & Luigi: Partners in Time" takes place.)

+Rosalina, piloting the Comet Observatory, returns to the Blue Planet from the far reaches of space. Bowser captures the starship, and leads an attack against the Mushroom Kingdom. The ensuing incident leads to a number of bad secrets coming out, and Rosalina finishes the affair by erasing the memories of it from everyone on the Blue Planet. This includes Luigi and Rosalina's love-!

+("Super Mario Galaxy" takes place.)

1995:  
+Mario and Peach are married, making them King and Queen of the Mushroom Kingdom.

+Sola and Lumen Toadstool, fraternal twins, are born to Peach.

+Toadbert visits Gadd at his remote mountain lab for the first time.

1996:

+Gadd finishes the first nuclear missile, the V1. He demonstrates it to Mario and Peach.

+The Mushroom Council decides to fund the continued development of nuclear weapons.

1997:

+Bitter about life, Toadbert leaves the Mushroom Council.

1998:

+Toadbert is taken on by Gadd as his assistant. Toadbert begins to learn the secrets to making nuclear weapons.

1999:

+The Koopa Kingdom gets hold of the V3 blueprints. They begin making their own nuclear bombs.

2000:

+Elvin Gadd sets up a mansion of ghosts composed from Luigi's unconscious in order to purge the man of his fears, and to obtain spiritual energy for his Drum.

+("Luigi's Mansion" takes place.)

+Bowser kidnaps Peach for the last time, along with the young Sola and Lumen. He threatens to nuke the Mushroom Kingdom if Mario comes to save them. Mario, in a fit of mindless drive, calls the bluff and saves Peach and the children, permanently scarring Bowser's face in the process. The Mushroom Kingdom announces they were nuke the Koopa Kingdom if Peach is ever kidnapped again- a threat taken seriously.

+Toadbert and Gadd are both suspected of having sold the nuclear secrets to the Koopa Kingdom. They are both released after a short time.

+Elvin Gadd passes away, days after completing the design for the V5 rocket. Before doing so, he tells Toadbert about the Drum.

2001:

+Nuclear launch sites begin to be placed along both sides of the Mushroom/Koopa border.

2002:

+Sola Toadstool loses a ring of vision in her left eye by the hand of an underground criminal- paying some "debt" her brother had accrued. The loss of vision remains a secret within Mushroom Castle for many years.

2003:

+Inspired by his sister's bravery, and the representative reflection in a movie, Lumen Toadstool is inspired to pursue true art in the creation of film.

2004:

+Luigi disappears. He has been picked up by Rosalina's Observatory, returning again to the Blue Planet. Rosalina tells Luigi about the incident ten years ago, and Luigi meets his daughter Asteria. He will not be seen again on the Blue Planet for three years.

+The Second Shroob War begins in the Mushroom Kingdom with a renewed invasion. It will last until 2006. (Is there a relation between Rosalina's return and the shroobs...?)

+The Beanbean Revolution begins originally when the people of the Beanbean Kingdom demand democracy. The monarchy is quickly slaughtered, and the kingdom becomes a boiling pot of competing factions.

+The Koopa Kingdom's War of Succession begins. It will last until 2005. Within the first month Bowser Jr. kills Morton Jr., Ludwig kills Bowser Jr., and Lemmy kills Ludwig.

+Two other wars erupt.

+Wendy Koopa, fleeing to the Koopa Kingdom's western mountains, takes refuge in religion.

2005:

+The Koopa Kingdom's War of Succession ends after Lemmy convinces the captured Larry to join his side and kill Iggy. Roy was already killed by Iggy, which leaves Lemmy, Wendy, and Larry as the survivors of the War. Lemmy becomes sole heir to the Koopa throne, defending Wendy and Larry's lives against Bowser.

2006:

+The Second Shroob War ends after the Mushroom Kingdom decides to nuke the largest battle of the campaign, killing millions of Shroobs. The surviving aliens vanish.

+Lemmy Koopa, as prince and heir to the Koopa throne, makes an order to some servants which he wishes to keep secret from his father, King Bowser.

+By this time, the world stands in competition between two hegemonies organized around the superpowers: one lead by the Mushroom Kingdom, and one by the Koopa Kingdom. In order to attract more allies the Koopa Kingdom becomes an increasingly capitalist nation, while the Mushroom Kingdom remains mercantile.

2007:

+On New Year's, Doopliss is forced to swallow a strange bean that gives him hallucinations.

+The Mushroom Kingdom claims a damaged Shroob starship found out in the World Ocean, and begins constructing a great nuclear research lab/warship atop it. This becomes the formidable Buoy Base.

+Luigi is found wandering in a forest near Mushroom Castle, carrying his baby daughter, Celeste. (He had been forcefully teleported from the Observatory by Rosalina, who was departing into deep space again with Asteria...)

+Sola and Lumen's nurse passes away. After the funeral, Yoshi and Toad discuss Lumen, as do Mario and Peach.

+Toadbert completes the V7 Rocket.

+?Someone, in the midst of tears, plots nuclear war.?

2008:

+The END conference, designed to bring about disarmament between the two superpowers, ends up doing very little. Participants: Mushroom Kingdom, Koopa Kingdom, Sarasaland, Subcon, Beanbean.

2010:

+Wendy digs deeply into religion, studying various esoteric texts. After some time she begins to give "lectures" to other scholars and common people, lectures that become increasingly inflamed.

2012:

+Lumen's self-exile ends when he goes into the outside world, in pursuit of "art".

2013:

+The Sprixie Kingdom declares alleigance to the Koopa Kingdom, kicking off a series of events leading to a proxy war between the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms where they back different forces within the Sprixie Kingdom- the Blue Sprixies for the Koopa Kingdom, and the Red Sprixies for the Mushroom Kingdom.

+A secret room is found deep in the Mushroom Castle dungeons by Lumen: a circular library with a pipe leading down into darkness in the center. Toadbert investigates, but finds the place extremely off-putting, with a resonance similar to the Drum.

+Lumen meets Kali.

+Lumen meets Doopliss.

2014:

+February 14th: Sola hosts her first Ball. She meets Rho.

+February 22nd: Mario is told by a witch-doctor that his strange aches are an omen- he "won't be here for the New Year". She vanishes without further explanation.

+April 11th: Sola hosts her third Ball, meets Rho again.

+April 24th: Wendy is told about a radio by one of her followers- and of the strange frequencies it was picking up.

+May 15th: Wendy begins fierce study of the radio and its noises, cancelling her remaining lectures. She becomes convinced they are of spiritual significance.

+July 4th: Sola's fifth Ball, Rho appears.

+August 1st: Sola's sixth Ball, Rho appears.

+September 5th: Sola's seventh Ball, Rho appears.

+October 31st: Sola's eighth Ball. Rho does not appear again, until December 11th.

+November 22nd: Lumen, Kali, and Doopliss take a life-changing "trip".

+November 23rd: Wendy and a follower depart for the source of the radio's noise- in the ancient Valley of the Lilies. The source is within a cave, where Something eats the follower. (...)

+November 29th: Lemmy visits Bowser, who asks for Lemmy to have children. Afterwards Lemmy gets a strange envelope in the mail with small slips of paper (Doopliss's drug) inside. Later that day, Wendy kills Bowser. Lemmy is crowned King of the Koopa Kingdom. He goes to find Wendy.

+November 30th: Lumen, Kali, and Doopliss hang out. Lumen reveals he sent the rest of Doopliss's drugs to Lemmy. Lumen later has an awkward, painful conversation with his father, Mario.

+December 11th: Sola confronts Lumen on his drug use, attempts to explain the international situation to him- the Beanbean Republic is the growing threat to both the Mushroom Kingdom and Koopa Kingdom.

+December 11th: The last Ball of the year. Rho appears again, says goodbye to Sola, and escapes the castle. He displays supernatural powers.

+December 12th: Celeste tells Luigi that she has made contact with her mother Rosalina, who is returning to the Blue Planet.

+December 12th: Lumen, Kali, and Doopliss trip for the second time. Lumen has sex with Kali. Encounters Saynt Zero. He is broken.

+December 13th: Mario has a heart attack and falls into a coma.

+December 14th: The END3 Conference takes place, with Peach representing the Mushroom Kingdom. No progress on any fronts.

+December 16th: Toadbert decides to move his work to Buoy Base. His work, including the perfected V8 Rocket ("Nuclear Phantasy") is moved out over the next week.

+December 17th: Peach declares Sola the new queen of the Mushroom Kingdom, officially effective on the New Year. Peach then disappears.

+December 24th: Christmas Eve- the day that Toadbert plans to leave the mountain base, armed only with the ballerina and the Drum. He is attacked by three shy guy assassins. They successfully kill him, but one (Agent Orange) is killed by Toadbert's use of the Drum, and another sustains a heavy wound. The surviving assassins retrieve the Drum and something else (...?)

+December 30th: Luigi and Celeste sail for Buoy Base, to attempt communication with Rosalina.

* * *

Special Thanks

Bastille

The Beatles

C. Mechayoshi

David88

Echo & the Bunnymen

Eduardo Amador Amazonas

ELO

Elton John

FinalMagus25

Guest

Minman083

Mito (Clammbon)

Neon Indian

spaghettiohs

Team ArcanetheGreat

Tears For Fears

The Toad Soldier

Twenty One Pilots

Will X

* * *

Dedicated to the Daemon

Always Watching


	13. 12: TN (Episode Ensemble 4)

Chapter Twelve: Tech Noir (Episode Ensemble 4)

Sola may as well have been a wall, standing back straight, fierce golden-blonde hair arcing in the light of the doorway. Her dress was light, curving out only slightly at the bottom, looking somewhat like a thin flower tilting down and opening below with carpels of feet.

It had always seemed Lumen's lankier, darker form was a shadow to her radiance. She'd never say that herself, as part of the brilliance of her light, but everybody else thought and knew it. It had been easy for Lumen to hide himself away from the world— when he had struggled for so long to see through that light.

"Hey, sis," Lumen greeted jovially enough. He could already tell this wasn't going to be good.

"Would you prefer to discuss your drug use here in the hallway or-?"

"Shh shh shh shh!" Lumen ran up to her, "What are you doing?" He stopped short of actually clamping his hand over his mouth— that'd earn him the death penalty.

Sola remained rigid, not reacting to Lumen's sudden scramble. They were about the same height, so she looked him directly in the face. "Would you prefer to discuss it in your room? You don't seem to feel comfortable talking about it publicly."

"No, I…" Lumen chuckled nervously. "This is… none of your business."

Some light left the room.

"What a thing to say," Sola said measuredly. "My brother is eroding his body while the world shakes all around, his father falling ill…"

Lumen jumped a little. "Dad's sick?"

Sola shrugged and looked to the side. "He's a bit under the weather. It's probably nothing."

"If it's probably nothing, then don't say things like that!" Lumen frowned. "You made it sound really bad."

"Really…" He continued, "You've been in a bad mood these last few months. Is this about that guy that ran out on you? At the balls?"

Sola's eyes flared for a brief moment. "I'm surprised you heard about that, since you would never come close to the dances. But don't change the subject. We're talking about your problem."

"It's not my problem, it's my _solution_." Lumen grinned and slid past Sola. She was foreboding, but he'd had enough. "You should give the stuff a try yourself."

Sola grabbed his arm in a precise maneuver, gripping like an iron claw.

"Ow."

"You think this is funny." Sola turned to him, the rest of her body still facing down the hallway. "I don't think so. You're doing something dangerous— for your own health, and for the reputation of the kingdom."

Lumen was silent.

Sola tugged. "Follow me."

They went down several halls and entered a meeting room. There were multiple "meeting rooms" in Mushroom Castle, each personally designed by a different important resident. The usual similarity was the presence of a table in the middle of the room, accompanied by chairs. Mario's room was themed after mushrooms. Peach's room was filled with paintings. Lumen even had his own meeting room (rarely used), modeled after one of his favorite movies.

Here now was Sola's: a rising sun carved out of the back stone wall of the room, shining rays of light striking out in all directions, beams striking up and down all around the walls and ceiling of the room, all coming to an end in the void of the front doorway.

Lumen took a seat. Sola took a position standing in front of the rising sun, a move that made Lumen sigh under his breath.

"I'll put this shortly. The END3 Conference is in three days. The Mushroom Kingdom needs all the political might and reputation it can muster. If what you're doing broke out, it would be a catastrophe."

"You're exaggerating." Lumen shook his head. "I mean, really, how did you even find out…?"

"I could tell you had been acting strange. But I hadn't had time to confront you—with no one else around—until this week." Sola tapped her fingers on the table. "...And I received a strange message from King Lemmy Koopa."

"Oh…?" Lumen's smile curved in a silly way.

"Yes." Sola's tone darkened. "He said 'Thank you for the gift.'"

"And…?" But Lumen's dumb smile was already giving it away.

"And... we have record of a mysterious envelope being sent out of the castle two weeks ago."

Lumen blinked. "Good record keeping."

"And then: A few days ago, it became international news that King Lemmy Koopa is now a proponent of psychedelic substances."

"Ha!" Lumen nearly shouted. "Wow!"

His hands dropped in the cold silence that followed.

Sola sighed. "You don't follow the news at all, do you…?"

"Wait wait, so who cares if I'm using things, then?" Lumen shrugged. "...If it's a matter of the Mushroom Kingdom's reputation? I'm not even the ruler, and now the ruler of the Koopa Kingdom, our so-called enemy, is absolutely a user? They're far worse off than we are now— at least from how you're looking at things."

"So we have a step up now." Sola placed her hand, palm flat, on the table. "We have an advantage now. And we need to keep it."

"It's not very much of an advantage." Lumen shrugged. "And I think we already have an advantage with the rest of the world over the Koopa Kingdom, considering we're basically the good guys…"

"You think that, because you haven't been paying attention. We are behind in the economic race, Lumen. We are naturally less appealing to the smaller nations."

"It can't be that simple."

"It's not. This isn't about the Mushroom Kingdom vs. the Koopa Kingdom anymore."

Lumen crossed his arms. "What?"

"We are coming towards a greater peace than any time before in history." Sola sighed. "On the outside, both countries paint the other as the enemy. It makes people work harder, to keep an "enemy" in mind… Without it, we'd fall apart on the inside."

"You think the Mushroom Kingdom would just fall apart if we didn't have an outside enemy?"

"That's how it _works_ , Lumen. It's like physics, there are strict facts to the game." Sola shook her head.

"Okay, and…?"

"We do have a real enemy. The Mushroom Kingdom and Koopa Kingdom are coming to a peace. But the Beanbean Republic is rising. They are rapidly gaining energy… their people are mad with power. They killed their leaders, and created a vortex within their own country, and soon it's going to spiral out and drag the whole world into it."

"And why don't I know about this?"

"Because you watch movies all day!"

She sighed. "I'm sorry."

Lumen put his legs up on the table. "It's that guy, isn't it…?"

"It's a hundred different things." Sola shot back angrily. "Not the least of which is a global crisis I am trying to fight, while you screw around!"

"Maybe it's what's supposed to happen." Lumen leaned forward. "What if the Beanbean Revolution is the natural direction of history? Greater liberty for the public?"

"The natural direction of history?" Sola's fist closed. "People slaughtered by the thousands is the 'natural direction' of history? Us, the Toadstool Family, guillotined by our own people… is that the 'natural direction' of history?"

"If we don't change our ways," Lumen returned calmly.

Sola turned pale for a moment.

"Leave. Get out, go." Sola gestured away. "You don't understand anything. You're lost in stories. You don't have the slightest sense of reality."

Lumen shrugged and headed for the door.

"I want you to stop using whatever it is your using." Sola demanded. "I'm serious, Lumen. You can ignore everything else, and just keep wasting your time, but I want you to stop using those damned drugs. Are you listening to me?"

His voice came from out the door. "Yeah, I hear you".

And (and and ((and) and and) and and, and, and,) Sola lowered her head, and (!) wondered, how had things gotten to this point? How had she ended up the future leader of the Mushroom Kingdom? How had her brother become such a strange, lazy failure? When had the burden come on to her, and why was it only now, in a pale moment like this, that suddenly the whole weight of her history seemed to be upon her? She had followed the stream, been generally obedient like girls were taught in the kingdom (even at the level of royalty!), and she had ended up in the path of absolute power, of absolute struggle. She was always the princess, but princesses didn't classically hold power.

Her mother was the counter-example, and what Sola had been following this entire time. The woman who ruled for years without a husband, and then, even after marriage, continued to hold more power than was obvious from the outside. Sola was simply the more extraverted version of that same force— now it could be seen by the world, now it would be felt far and wide.

And that same night, sitting at another ball, there she was— in the more overtly feminine role again. Pretending activity, while really waiting for that man, that phantom, who had never returned since September.

And this ball on the eleventh of December, the last of the year. She had advertised it as such, determined to attract that certain bastard.

Last. Of. The. Year.

Still, certain more responsible people couldn't be bothered to come. The king was feeling shaky, and did not want to attend any public events. The queen stayed with him— an excuse to get away from the public. And Lumen, of course...

And then that man arrived, he arrived, and the funnel of time curved— like the last few months really hadn't meant that much, and it was this night that was the real fullness of it all, that all the waiting and acting in the "real world" had been for a single night.

Some part of herself hated how simplistic it all was, how she was so stricken over this ghost that she knew so little about.

And he, here, was so broken now. His arms were slightly different in length, and his face was tilted— like someone had taken the features and swiveled them some 45 degrees clockwise.

"How did you even get past the guards?" Sola raised a gloved hand to her mouth, a flush feeling of strange hatred running down her neck. "Looking like that?"

"I had to see you again, one more time."

"What is wrong with you?"

"I'm not human. But you already know that."

"Why?"

(What did that question even mean?)

Rho looked back at her sadly. It seemed his face didn't even really move anymore, drooping like dough, but beneath his eyes still shined alive.

"I can't stay long." He took his hat off. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" Sola shook. "What does that mean?"

"It means goodbye." He backed away. "I can feel… that I will be gone soon."

Sola stared flatly at him.

"Guards!" She suddenly shouted, pointing at Rho. "Arrest this man!"

Rho shook his head sadly and backed away.

Guards from both sides rushed at him, but as they reached to grab his mismatched arms, the limbs twisted and bent like window drapes, falling around and through the soldiers' grasps.

"Seal the doors!" Sola shouted, pointing towards the great doors at the entrance to the room.

The guards were fast, pushing swiftly through the cloud of shouting and confused guests.

Within an instant, the doors were shut.

Rho floated and curved back grotesquely, bones not breaking, but everything seeming to flatten and warp like a rippling torus. Soon he was rolled up into a tube, turning curling along the ground. Guests ran to the left and right, avoiding the baffling roll of flesh and suit that bounced onto the floor and spun down the hallway.

"After him!" Sola shouted again, nearly shrieking, as it seemed the room had descended into some mad realm distinct from reality.

She ran at the head of the guards that pursued Rho, tossing off her fine shoes after they nearly tripped her. Her dress, meanwhile, was high enough that she did not have to worry about tripping.

Turning several halls, keeping the rolling tube always just within sight by the seconds, Sola smiled, slight madness dancing all about her. "He's heading for a dead-end! We've got him."

Two more corners.

"Fool!" Sola called out to no one. "All the rooms he might have turned into… but he took this hallway, where…"

—The sound of glass shattering—

They came to the end, the architecturally bizarre and unexplained east end, where there was only stone wall… and then, thirty feet above—comically meaningless—a small window.

And (and and and) yet! Not so comically meaningless now— for it underlined the folly of Sola's chase.

She came down on one knee and picked up a shard of glass that had fallen from the window above. She turned the piece several time in her hands, watching the light shining through, and recognized as it inexplicably highlighted the dark ring within her eyes.

Oh. Now the glass was red.

"Princess…!" A guard moved forward.

"It's just a small cut." Sola said, simply. Already, she was determining to forget all of it. Forget every bit of that Thing she had danced with.

Reality was here again. There was a world, and it followed rules, and by understanding the rules, and knowing how to navigate them, one could do whatever they needed to. No surprise elements.

Her eyes, darkened for the last few minutes, cleared.

She smiled. "Does anyone have a band-aid?"

And the very next day, elsewhere, reality would become even more distorted, for three individuals were again submitting themselves to netherworld— sitting in a grungy living room, putting pieces of paper in their mouths, they prepared to fall through the ground.

Lumen, who felt guilty for a moment, thinking of his sister. But his peace had already worn off, that feeling of victory he had found three weeks ago. He needed it back, at any cost— for it was there, and only there, in all his life, that everything had been absolutely perfect. No doubts, no pain.

And perfect, unspeakable wisdom. What did the worries of this world mean to that one?

Lumen told himself that Sola wouldn't know. He'd act extra normal around her afterwards. —It'd be fine. For now, he just needed to get back to a better place.

Then, there was Doopliss, who looked ragged and strangely sad. Lumen remembered that Doopliss had seemed much the same near the end of the last year, but figured that the duplighost's continually improved mood had come about as a matter of finding friends. And (AND) yet, the same sense of sadness had returned again to him now.

And (godDAMN it!) Kali, listed here last but not least, for, of the three of them, she would have the biggest name in the history books. Out of time, before what was to come, the three friends would feel this (details lost to the marshes), certain of only the brilliance of her circle, growing larger and larger. In the void of the future, the only certainty among the three of them was the size of her stretching hand.

Oh— right. They were already there, weren't they? Right there. It's not there, or over there, but there. Here? Maybe. It defied words.

Though Lumen was determined to write it out this time, to try to explain it, he saw himself put the pencil down, and he remembered that nothing he could write would help him or anyone at all once he woke up. None of it could be said.

"It's like a religious experience," He said from across the room.

"Heh heh ha," Doopliss chuckled. There was only one Doopliss, hanging upside down from the ceiling, but two Lumens. At least, that's what Lumen thought he saw. But wait, if he could see two Lumens, then who was looking at the Lumens? Clearly, there must have been three Lumens!

"Sounds about right." Kali's voice came from the empty fireplace. "But then who is recognizing the three Lumens?"

"One of the Lumens."

"There has to be another thing to name separate things, right? No object can directly observe itself."

Lumen squinted. "Are you quoting someone? When did you read that?"

A horrible feeling came over him that he was only talking to himself, that everything in the room was only him, and that he was completely alone.

His heart started to beat like crazy, and a desire for death curled around him.

"You talked about him."

Oh.

A sea of relief washed over Lumen. "Right. I remember now."

Yes, now he could see it: he was telling Kali about some more garbage he had read.

"I thought that didn't happen yet."

Doopliss, still hanging from the ceiling, unfurled disjointed but beautiful bat wings. "Slick, that's not how to think of it."

"Don't call me that…" Lumen said distantly. "Can you get off the ceiling, too? It's a little creepy. ...My heart feels wobbly."

"You're on the ceiling."

"No, I'm on the floor."

Oh hell. The distinction was meaningless too, wasn't it? At least here, and now.

"I think we're both actually on the walls."

" _I_ think this is really annoying."

And right there, Lumen was on top of Kali, on the couch.

"What's happening?" Lumen trembled. "Oh no…"

"Calm down…" Kali said softly. "Come on…"

"This isn't right." Lumen tried to think, tried to put the problem into words. "You're a koopa, and I'm a human…"

"So what?"

"And what about…?"

He tried to look for Doopliss, but his head wouldn't move. He already knew the duplighost was sitting in a nearby chair.

"You know it doesn't matter." Kali's eyes narrowed, "This is the entire world."

Her arm was around his neck.

"This isn't you," Lumen groaned, "You… you're not Kali."

"No, maybe not."

The admission made Lumen's heart turn several times.

"Kali wouldn't do this." Lumen continued.

"Why not?"

"Because, Kali is… Kali doesn't like me. Doesn't care about me. Not like this."

"She does, though. That's why this is happening."

"But you said you're not her."

"You're losing yourselves in distinction. The Kali you're with now is not the Kali you know."

"There are thousands of Kalis," Someone said off-screen.

"This isn't… no…" Lumen spluttered.

"No matter how solid you pretend to be, you're still broken, Lumen," The koopa beneath said, "You'll never get farther, unless you're forced."

"You're a koopa! I'm a human!"

"You'll always have an excuse. You'll never get farther. Your own body put you here. Now you take it, and—"

Thousands of miles, thousands of hours, thousands of lightyears. Time, clocks, broken, chains, lengths of rope and knives, golden glinting watches and crossbows. Just meaningless, all the symbols were meaningless. Everything we used to think, every object we implanted on our view, was a false view. The warped, curving reality underneath was the reality, and it was curving, and it was smooth, and fluid. It was opulent. It was neither good nor bad.

"That happened almost immediately. Once night had fallen."

Lumen was sitting by himself again. Alone, in a void. Sitting in a single wooden chair, which floated above the abyss, below the abyss, in the center of the abyss.

"It happened. And then we forgot, for hours. And hours. And we had those stupid conversations. And only now, did it dawn on us, that it happened. It did happen."

"I already had sex with Kali."

His mind blanked out.

(White)(Black)

Oh. Someone was coming. Through the darkness.

It wasn't Kali or Doopliss.

Black-red. Tall, looming over. Long hair, streaks of blood. Dark, dark cloak. Pale white face. Blood running down from eyes.

Holding a great scythe.

Lumen fell to his knees.

"Saynt Zero."

(He mouthed in silence.)

(He was quickly aware that he had never heard that name before.)

"From the miracle of Zero comes One. From One comes Two, Two Three, and from Three the Myriad Things."

Lumen was saying that.

"But then you aren't that. Because I can see you."

The scythe curved in the darkness.

"You killed me before. You will kill me again. Zero."

"And then One."

"And I know too much already. I know your name. I don't know how, but I know your name, and it is too much. I know you have no face."

"I thought I knew everything, but there are so many things I don't know. There is Zero, and there is further, and further, and further. And there is thither, and thither, and thither. Without names. The circuitry behind my miracle. The work behind my miracle. The blood and the toil behind the victory."

"And when I know this, when I know of Saynt Zero, and I know of further, and I know of thither, and faces, and the things within wheels, I can do no thing but forget."

"If I don't forget, I will fall outside of the wheel. And I will be neither alive nor dead."

The silent, ghastly figure pointed upward.

"So I will remember what I need to, until the moment comes that I need what I know. And when I've done what I Need to, I will forget everything again, and the wheel will turn forward. And I will return to One. Because it is a terrible and inhuman thing to know everything, and beyond everything, to know Zero."

Lumen swallowed, but he had no saliva left. He had been speaking for one hundred million years. There was nothing left to say.

"I will forget. I will live to forget. Forget."

And then it all rushed up, and he was thrown out again, and now he was on top of Doopliss, and he felt nothing, but he already knew—

"This never happened at all."

Doopliss trembled. "All things have happened."

"This is a trick."

Doopliss transformed into Lumen. "But I, am…"

"There neither is, nor isn't." Everything was so horribly certain now, so completely, perfectly locked together and certain, without joy or sadness.

"Slick…"

Doopliss melted, hot, so that his sheet remained draped on the front of Lumen's body as he got up, like melted cheese on a grilled cheese sandwich.

"You're right." Lumen grinned. "I am slick." The cheese slid off of him, and for a moment, it was all very funny.

"Are you okay?"

Wait. This was reality again.

Sitting on the couch, fingers curled up, digging into his eyebrows, he saw through the cages of his digits.

He lowered his hands slowly.

"Lumen. Yo."

Kali was shaking his shoulder. He looked at her face, and her eyes darted away.

He felt sick.

"Is Doopliss alright?" Lumen asked.

"Yeah." Kali's eyes shifted back, and she looked at him directly. "He's fine. You're… you haven't seemed so hot."

"What do you mean?" He asked slowly.

"It's over, but you've just been sitting there. I…" Kali looked away, and stood up. "I was in my room for most of it. I came out a few hours after it ended, and I came down, and you were just sitting there."

"Is that right?"

Kali grimaced. "What the heck did you see, Lumen? It's not just…?"

She trailed off, wordlessly.

Lumen shook his head. "No."

Kali stood up. "That didn't happen."

Lumen shrugged.

"I don't hate you, Lumen, but it didn't happen."

"Who said I thought you hated me?"

"You. Over and over again. It was pathetic."

"I don't remember that."

"Maybe that's good. But it seems you saw something else, something far worse."

"I saw what I needed to."

Kali frowned and looked away, towards a window. There was something new in her eyes too, something mighty, but Lumen was too self-absorbed to notice.

Doopliss finally fell from the ceiling and crashed into the floor.

It's afternoon when Lumen leaves Kali's house. His head feels wrapped, wet and sweating. It feels like he'll burst.

He wonders what is supposed to happen next. Pieces of dreams come here and there, coming out of the mist and returning, and he vaguely knows that something tremendous is going to happen soon. And sometimes he remembers that it will save his mind, and other times he forgets that anything good will ever happen again.

He doesn't see the people rushing here and there in panic, his gaze is only on the cobblestone below.

Finally someone actually rushes up and grabs him by the shoulders.

"Huh?" He looks up.

It's Yoshi.

"Prince Lumen! Mario, the King...your father…"

And the ball falls, and bounces, and…

The entire world flips upside down. And now Peach is standing on the ceiling (the floor?), near to the windows that look out at the world, all up the right side, and we know that she is in fact on the floor, and the world is real again.

(Breathe, Lumen. Breathe, through stardust memories, I feel You—)

Queen Peach is rigid. Her advisors stand before her, afraid.

"My queen, are you sure…?"

"The END3 Conference is not to be cancelled," Peach declares again, "I will attend."

"What do we tell the other representatives about the king…?"

"Tell them the truth," Peach says coldly.

"But my queen, that…"

"He will surely recover soon." Peach's face is ice. "He will wake up soon. This is nothing, for him."

"He…"

"Everything is fine!"

The advisers were silent.

"A heart attack doesn't put a person into a coma," Her left hand covering her right, no one can see the fingers below straining, rippling. "Whatever this is… it's only a sleep. He will wake up soon."

No one will argue with her.

And the END3 Conference goes. Peach does not let Sola attend— and because Peach is still the kingdom's ruler, Sola obeys... if not with confusion and discontent.

By all reports, the Conference is nearly useless. No one seems to actually want to communicate. King Lemmy is strange and distracted— everyone else thinks they know why, but they are not aware of the situation regarding the former king Bowser, and the Princess Wendy Koopa… still on the loose. As the conference continues, the new Beanbean representative—the former found to be a traitor to the revolution— sits draped in a malignant seriousness. Compared to the END2's Beanbean representative's jollity and smirking mockery, this new fellow's seriousness is the seriousness of the Beanbean Republic's rise, and the new nation's demand for respect.

It's quite unnerving, but then… everyone in the Conference still seems to be playing the old play, and the argument falls between the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms. Now, however, the conflict is only played out by the smaller powers on both sides, for Lemmy is distracted, rarely commenting, while Peach sits quietly, the air about her brimming with poison. By this point, everyone in the room has found out about Mario.

To summarize: The lesser allies bicker and the greater powers are largely silent.

And...there is a shadow looming larger and larger over the table. And everyone at the table believes the shadow is coming from a different side.

The Conference is the last time Queen Peach is publicly seen for the next three days. After the other representatives leave, she barricades herself in her room, and only allows a few select servants to bring her food and other necessities.

Without her orders, the kingdom slows down.

And then, on the third day, she summons Sola to her room.

Sola is angry now. Mario is gone to the world, and Peach will not rule at all. The advisers are beginning to take control.

Peach's hair is disheveled, and bags run under her eyes. There is a nervous energy running through her.

Peach tells Sola that she is the new Queen of the Mushroom Kingdom— the ruler. This transition will become official on the first day of the new year, as the tradition of old, but for all intents and purposes, she was already queen.

There are five different issues Sola wants to deal with immediately, grown worse in the last three days of silence, so she leaves quickly. On the way through the halls, she orders a doctor to see to it that Peach is given medical attention.

However, by the time the doctor reaches Peach's room, the former queen is gone.

Luigi volunteers to search for Peach, but he fails to find any real trace of her over the next two weeks. He tells Sola (to her discontent) that Peach must be safe, resting away from the world.

Sola is unhappy, but Luigi knows he's done his best, and now something else comes along: Celeste, telling Luigi she can communicate with her mother, Rosalina. That Echoes were the key— and for a lasting, real communication, contact was to be made from a particularly high place.

A number of dangerous mountain ranges are the options, or…

The summit of Buoy Base— that tower floating out in the ocean?

Impossible for anyone else, perhaps, but Luigi and Celeste are part of the royal family… they could go there. There might be some bureaucratic difficulties, but Luigi, as a great hero, could surely convince anyone that he was to be allowed in.

So, on December 30th, 2014, Luigi and Celeste charter a boat to head for Buoy Base.

And it all tick-tocks along—


	14. 13: SSN (Episode Peach)

Chapter 13: Sugar Sweet Nightmare (Episode Peach)

Wash it all away, wash it all away, wash it all away, wash it all away, wash it all away.

SCREAMING!

Hahahahaha. Well she finds herself back here again, body scrunched up like a cat, wrapped around a pillow, staring at the wall, grinning maniacally. Death, death to them all. Death to them all, she thinks.

"It's not that bad." She says. "In fact, it's good. Life is good. I am a princess. I am a queen."

She's dreaming again. Water pours down. Wash it all away, wash it all away. She runs to the sink, douses her face with water, fills the sink up, shoves her face in, lets the clear liquid drive up to her hair, keeps her face down, opens her eyes, pearly white sink-stone, and nothing else. And she feels the oxygen leaving her, and the lack of air, and the void, and the small black pinpoint, and she thinks:

How did I get so fucked up? How did I get so fucked up?

And she's losing her temper. And she thinks: Why am I thinking like this? How old am I?

Decorum, decorum. Whirling rushing, servants and advisors, floating all around, dancing around, papers and pencils and pens and bureaucracy of an entire kingdom, and Peach is staring into space, Space, but not Time, because time is frozen, and she is trapped here, and there is a screeching sound somewhere, and she doesn't know where it's coming from, and her heart won't stop beating so furiously, like nothing is ever safe, like she can't quite keep this charade up much longer, and…

"I'm losing my shit." And she covers her mouth.

Reward.

 _They only raised me to be the accompanying piece to someone else,_ She thinks. _No one expected me to be the actual ruler for so long, to refuse to marry for so long, but...I…_

I hate men.

(She hates men.)

In fact, as Peach records her thoughts in a journal, trying to get all the voices out of her head, she realizes that she just about hates everyone.

No, not Mario. Mario saved her again and again. She could easily imagine hating him, out of the usual spite she can't seem to control, but she doesn't. Maybe in some other time and place.

Not her children. No.

No, if there's a bright enough light in her world, it's her family. Yes.

What if the entire world was just her and her children? How would that be? Perfect, probably. Yes.

She realizes that a few years after the children are born. That thought courses along, and…

There's that thought again. Just sitting in her tub, running soap and water through her hair, and a black memory comes through her mind.

She was in a tub when she gave in to Bowser. When her defenses were broken down, when she was just past that tipping point where the identity of the man (monster?) at the tub was no longer important.

"We women have a certain role to play." The diviner spins her thread: Peach's mother sitting in her jagged throne. "We support the men. You give them what they need to keep stable. We're here to help them."

A man's world.

Heavy breathing, hot. Peach wondered, as Bowser (), whether she would drown right here and now. Maybe, in the chaos of (), he would push her clear down into the water, keep smacking her, maybe drive her head strong into the tub, and knock her asleep, so that the water would fill her lungs and in his vicious action, kill her.

It hurt, and yet it was not so far different from Mario. She was left dully debating if she really did want to die right here and now, or if she should live to be returned back home and wait for Bowser to come capture her again. She wondered if… she could get used to this. If this was really just her life. The stories of one capture, one rescue, and done— those must have been a fiction.

The water kept splashing out, and it was soon clear that she couldn't drown now. No, maybe he could crush her to death, but…

His neck was above her, he was such a massive monster. She could bite into his neck, maybe. If her teeth were stronger, and if they both weren't so wet, her with water and he with sweat, that she could tear right through him, let his blood come pouring out all over her (what was one liquid from another?) and do what Mario couldn't, wouldn't.

"Just finish already." She says, but he can't hear her, over the splashing and his own sounds. She can't believe he can last so long, such a lonely, miserable creature. He has children already, but she's the object of his affection, isn't she? Shouldn't he have been more excited, should have finished by now? He seemed excited enough, trembling like a stupid horny teenager.

"Just stab me right through." She says, and in a last thrust and sound, he finishes, and she's left without feeling. Something inside of her just smirks with spite, more, more spite, and thinks:

 _Did I do well, mother?_

Whatever. Whatever.

Then, there is Prince Peasley.

What a real gentleman, she thinks. Would that she had met him years before, her life would not have come to this point.

They correspond through letters for years.

 _Dear Prince Peasley_ ,

My good friend. My quiet love. Because Peach can't imagine really knowing a man without holding some form of sexual compulsion towards them. It is her deepest secret, maybe, and she only remembers to wonder once every few years whether it's the same for anyone else. Even Bowser was a hilarious/disgusting (pick one, or both, who cares?) nightmare-phantasy until she actually caved in to the sorry son of a bitch and regretfully took his seed.

Peasley has class. He's a prince, naturally. He shares Peach's social class. Marrying him would not be an issue for an instant— if it wasn't for Mario. The man climbed out of nowhere to become practically the knight of the kingdom, and society had "progressed" (?) to become the socio-literary parody where indeed a knight could seriously vie for the hand of a princess (eat your heart out, Lancelot), and Peach included, besides, did truly like Mario... (Though on some level her own aristocratic blood boiled with caustic rage and spat through the years, generations, troops of ancestral archetypes: _This is Wrong._ )

Peach figures that as she already cheated on Mario once with Bowser (such a little thing, really, it felt like at the time), she could do so again with someone she actually liked: Peasley. But she knew on some level (fully consciously, if she put herself away in a room and drudged through the horrid complexity of her problems and why they were all exactly the way they were, like the only one way a picture puzzle could fit together) that to have _relations_ with Peasley would undoubtedly ruin the sanctity and glimmering air of their relationship, something Peach could not psychologically afford—

~So, then~

[INTERMISSION]

[BY WHICH WE MEAN THE INTERRUPTION OF A SERIES OF COSMICALLY IMPORTANT EVENTS, INSERTED NOT LIGHTLY INTO THE MIDDLE OF AN ALREADY SPINNING, DESTABLED LIFE]

The Space Observatory. Rosalina. Bowser. Disaster.

Most tragedies in life build up little by little, and looking back you can trace the lineage of the events. But sometimes, lightning strikes. Accidents, and such. Could we call this the king of all accidents?

No, that's wrong. Sure, the appearance of the space princess was an unpredictable event in itself, but it was really only the setting stage for the tragedies that followed, those tragedies that were already set in motion, probably inevitable... the blooming of the seed of sins that she and Mario and Bowser had all helped nurture in their own ways.

Step-by-step, little by little, a story of chaos that really only lasted a couple of weeks amidst the galactic battles of some months, but that in its intricacy like days of fractals zooming in on every moment and seeing that the thread was drawn like fate's careful weave, to finally culminate in Peach knocking Mario's hand away, and confirming, yes, with the fire in her eyes, that, by god Eldstar, yes, she fucked Bowser, she did it, it happened, and get over it already.

And Mario seized with that rare dazed look, the one he never got adventuring— no, there was his special arena, saving her again and again.

The realm of relationships and sharp emotions that kill is far worse, Mario is far less prepared, and yet he is still a person all the same— and still carries his own emotional weapons with him.

(""Yes, well…"")

Ho, and the tables are turned. Mario's eyes avert, nasty, sneering gleeful anger (who is in there?) poking out bits of fire: he has his own comeback. Someone else inside of Peach already knows, they're hardening, hot coal, inside.

Mario had played around too. Oh yes— he too had relations with koopas. One Kylie Koopa, for instance— no one Peach would know. Just a random turtle, a compulsion of strange lust in the moment, a filthy pleasure (regardless of the objectivity, Mario truly believes it. He detests koopas, even if he doesn't always know it. He thinks he can judge them fairly, but he was mentally poisoned from childhood).

Oh, why does it matter to Peach so much? Why does it seize her with further madness? Why is Bowser… oh, why does Bowser appear there now, the space Observatory and why, at that very moment, does the Accident occur, does really, does time itself break, some accident with all the machinery, knocking on heaven's door and it opened itself, it answered: but it wasn't an angel waiting behind the door. This heaven has no angels or demons, it is sheer nature, and if the wrong buttons are pressed, if the wrong rock is removed from the hill and the boulders tumble down, it is a mathematical thing. It is a mathematical thing that in the shock of the moment, the emotions mingle with the electromagnetic energy and god-knows-what-else and opens that door, tears the hole in space, and before the entire Observatory, the fourth dimension is laid bare.

Which is so-to-say: Some cosmic quirk bounces, and so Mario, Peach, and Bowser see their entire lives played out before them— from birth to death, in what feels a matter of minutes. Each having their own private theater.

What does Peach see? She goes berserk, shakes her head, throws herself against a wall, wild eyes. The power of godly vision itself is enough to do this, good or bad.

Mario shakes badly, but he can control himself. He tries to console Peach, and she responds a little, but still she seems to be on the verge of really breaking out.

Bowser quietly sits down.

Rosalina appears— Bowser is forfeiting his attempts at taking over the Observatory. She can take control again, and end the war once and for all. Light!

Yes. And in the mystic, flashing aspects of higher secrets, Rosalina erases everything, washes it all away. The memory of those weeks, those months. With her arm outstretched above and hands grasping, she waves— one circle, two, and the waterfall of forgetting comes running down. Everyone forgets the pain and shock, the personal destabilizations that would have prevented the future. Peach forgets, and Mario forgets, and Bowser forgets, and yes, he who was unscathed, who found love, the collateral damage of the affair (not to mention Rosalina herself, and the child) forgets forgets forgets.

The outrageous and tragic incident is gone. But the imprint of the time is left over: a physical happenstance.

Peach is pregnant. With Mario's children. Replace the memories of that strange night in the Observatory, a week before the Cosmic Accident, Mario and Peach already furious at one another, spiraling out from other events insubstantial to the large-scale narrative. In a moment they clash, and then they are atop one another. Brilliant anger becomes molten lust. Opposing energies, rising higher and higher, verge to the same point. The tip of the triangle is all pure energy. Furious, tossing sheets are the end.

Yes, replace those memories— with something cool and quiet and romantic in the castle on earth.

But, what then is the truth? One hot, angry time happened in space. One cool, slow moment on earth is the firm memory. What becomes the stronger force in the years that follow, in the present moment, in the still unfolding future?

And then: twins are born. Ah, happy happy. A sunny girl, a gloomy boy. Twins, theoretically. It's hard to tell how hard their dispositions set in, whether looking back it only seems like they were born the way they were, or if, years falling on, one seemingly insignificant event after another moulds the children into the patterns they become— ?

This is a fine time. Rosalina's magic is strong. On the surface, Peach feels better. Somewhere beneath, someone is still scratching at the door…

Then the darkness of the outside world comes knocking again. It knocks, and in return, the darkness inside Peach answers. They work together to bore a hole through her.

She is kidnapped one more time in 2000. Well,

Prince Peasley is beheaded four years later, at the beginning of that "glorious" Beanbean Revolution. The actions of the common people are

And the Shroobs come back, of course. God forbid there can be real peace— even if Bowser stops attacking, something fucking horrible has to happen anyway. The Shroobs descend, and the people of the Mushroom Kingdom live in terror once again. So the bombs are dropped, and

And these things stack up, one event after another, sentences on a list but after all real punches of terror and emotion, and then one year, Peach is sitting down to tea, alone, slowly raising the cup to her mouth, and she thinks, quite clearly, lucidly, honestly:

 _It would be okay if the bombs destroyed the world._

It would be okay, she thinks. Why not? Of course she still loves her family, so she'd protect them. Yes, but: if everyone else died, what difference would it make? Less pain, certainly.

It occurs to her someone else would think her mad, but she thinks quite calmly:

 _I think this is okay. And I am the last judgment that matters_.

She sips the tea. She puts the thought away. But it starts growing. In the fertile darkness it grows. It grows and grows and grows, in the soil of thoughts both recognizable and unknown.

She hardly had to think about it over the years. Like some dark angel reaching out from inside her, plans were put forth here and there, small steps. Destiny accumulating. Fate piled up.

And then all that was necessary was a trigger. Something to really snap her awake.

And that would be Mario's heart attack, seven years later in 2014. Fallen down, plunged into deep sleep.

The next day is the END3 conference. The hostility of the Beanbean representative sinks into Peach.

And after three days of grieving, Peach moves into action. Snap, snap. She wakes up, to find all the plans ready, her other self, a flickering shadow, had put everything into place.

Fire the V8 Rocket at the Koopa Kingdom. Their retaliation and the Mushroom Kingdom's allies retaliation will destroy everything in return.

Peach and her family escape on a secret ship, constructed from remnants of Shroob technology— the ArkAngel. Escape to the moon, where a secret base had been under construction since 2001, a safe place constructed long ago in the case of nuclear war, but now finally for the potential here…

To launch the V8, three keycards are needed. One is at Buoy Base. One is with the chief rocket scientist Toadbert. And Peach carries with her the last. Quietly kill Toadbert, and get his cardkey without anyone finding out— there must be no knowledge of the launch to come.

(So, Toadbert is killed by three assassins on December 26th.)

By December 30th, Peach is at Buoy Base, on what she calls a tour. Mario's sleeping body has been secretly brought by his personal bodyguards. Peach puts out other secret orders to have Sola and Lumen brought to Buoy Base within 24 hours— and if they refuse, to be taken by force.

The plans and pieces that took so long to build now flare in fast, short time.

By the New Year, everyone will be gone.

Peach stares off into space.

Soon, it will be so quiet.

* * *

 **/A/N/: Alright, let's finish this.**


	15. 14-A: BtW (Episode Ensemble 5)

**Act Four: Reflecting Moon**

Chapter Fourteen (Episode Ensemble 5)

[Side A: Burn the Witch]

"Find her."

So Lemmy had ordered, twenty-four hours ago. Soldiers had rushed off across the castle, through the nearby city, and were now embarking on further journeys across the Koopa Kingdom. Wendy Koopa had to be found.

Her motives were unknown. Certainly, there were more than enough reasons for Wendy to have killed her father. But why now? Why, after all these years? Especially when she seemed so peaceful now, nearly a nun— a religious spirit. Maybe a bit reactionary, sure, but to suddenly kill Bowser and flee…

The only clues were those that a few of Wendy's followers had provided: rumors about a radio, strange messages, tracing the source...

Find her, find her— She couldn't have gone far. Someone must have seen her. One of her followers must know! Demand answers.

Yes, it was quite likely, even, that she was still in the castle. There were countless secret passages and rooms in the depths of the ancient black keep. Was Wendy somewhere in the depths, wandering, out of her mind?

Lemmy paced in the throne room. Something bad was happening. The death of the king was not enough to account for this sense. No, not enough. Something else was creeping on. The whole world was beginning to tremble again, like when Lemmy was younger, when he was just another sibling among a small crowd that had to be cut down...

To Larry, by rapid mail:

"Have you seen Wendy?"

"Not for two years."

Larry was not a serious source for answers. He lived on his own estate, out in the eastern countryside, nearly alone with his wife and infant daughter and a handful of servants. He had nothing to do with the world's affairs anymore.

There were no answers.

No, it was all…

It was all…

Wait.

Wait.

He is afraid, he'll admit it. There is something terribly wrong. Maybe it's the strange drugs he's been taking, that the other prince sent him. —That was an odd bit of trust, to take that stuff.

Ever since, he's felt waves. Waves in, and waves out. From the world outside, there are troubles— they send waves. And from inside there are troubles, increasingly flat— they send waves too, weaker waves. And where the waves from the inside and the waves from the outside collide, there is a great crash. And now a very great one has been rising, ever since Bowser was found dead.

Pummeled from the outside and the inside, continuously, it reverberates. Now it sends its own shockwaves out into the existential sea. Now the sea entire is becoming turbulent. Now the waters froth.

"You can feel it too, can't you?" Lemmy asks Bom, sitting at the base of the throne. He can't sleep soundly now, won't go to bed (much to Bom's displeasure). On his throne he sits and sleeps, weaving in and out of dreamscapes, and visions of the sea above and around.

"Feel what?"

He doesn't consciously know, but underneath, his deeper self feels it, Lemmy can see. Dear Bom. He isn't so smart, but expressions of fear still circle his eyes. Wordless understanding. Feel, feel the rumblings.

On the second day of the search, Lemmy received reports: all of the reports of where Wendy _wasn't_. Not here, not there. Not this, not that. Even the mountain church where she had hidden during the War of Succession was found empty— besides for strange nuns and old women lacking any marks of priesthood at all, just traces of rags, wandering blind, scraping past cobwebs, aching crumbled stone, a vision verging on nightmare. The vision was inexpressibly disclosed by the faces of the soldiers that came back from the place, not touched physically or mentally, but spiritually. A suggested death of the spirit, like they had come out of the pages of some century-old text announcing the Death of God.

Lemmy could feel it as they returned, guards crossing the Koopa Kingdom, searching throughout, and not finding Wendy. Odd expressions on their faces, like they too sensed the spiritual-physical epidemic sweeping across the kingdom and beyond, something scratching at the edges of the collective consciousness, just now, in visible expression, to the acute observer (being here, Lemmy) the peaking of Something, a Trouble of some kind. This was not just about a missing patricidal princess. No, it was…

"Damn!" Lemmy bolts forward, nearly falling from the stone throne. Bom, sleeping lightly against the seat, is startled.

"Put the castle on lockdown." Lemmy orders. "And don't follow me."

He's in that state where, despite his lack of leadership experience, he's been given a loan from the future, and can for the time strike like lightning with his words, posture, and actions.

They said she wasn't in her room, but…

He opens the door to Wendy's bedroom. Papers. Papers creep out, come sweeping out.

The room is full of sheets of paper. Books ripped from their spines, pages floating freely. Almost like some way through the air itself has been replaced by paper.

And there at the farther end of the room, a huge pile, the size of five bodies—

They didn't search under the pile. No, it was somehow both too obvious and too stupid. Too obvious and too stupid… Or maybe even she had hid somewhere else, then come back to the room and buried herself in the papers.

Lemmy shuts the door behind him slowly. He wants no interference. He's reading the waves, and the waves say this should be how it is. That if guards come rushing in here, it won't go well. The flow will get jerky and bad.

Even now, anyway, the tension…

"Wendy," Lemmy says authoritatively, "Wendy, come out."

The pile doesn't budge.

"Wendy." Lemmy repeats. "I know you're here."

Silence.

"This was our old game. Hide-and-seek." Lemmy smiled. "Will you make me find you?"

He takes a step towards the pile.

The papers burst upward. Sheets go flying and floating away and down, and from the depths of the mass flys a figure, something shadowy but with form, a solid mass from behind the thin sheets, a fully dimensional presence. Lemmy had a feeling that something was going to happen, so he is able to react, ducking down and to the right. The figure launching itself, one hand outstretched, one arm back, hand clutching a pair of scissors, seems to remain coated with the cloud of papers goes flying past Lemmy, straight to the door, open hand clutching at the door, slamming into the wall of nothing, smacking flat, other arm coming up from behind and driving the open pair of bladed scissors chunking into the wood, chips of wood and fine (such a strike) shades of sawdust curling out, surfing along the chips.

Lemmy flings himself back. No, he's not ordinarily so quick, but in the circumstances, his mind is open like floodgates. He is more fully connected to his body, and the whole system runs smooth like a river. He can feel the slight whiff of air currents, and curving through, finds the way out—

"Stop!" The thing gags, moving so fast that still, even as the papers all over the room continue to float down, it moves along through like a curving serpent swimming through a sea of text. Scissors glint through the pulp. Lemmy follows the air and the sight of the glint and moves narrowly, body snapping around and curving like a snake itself. There's something vaguely familiar in this dance, as in, cosmically familiar.

"Stop!" It— she— jerks out again. She moves again, and colliding into another pile of papers, the room is even further obscured. Now it seems like all is paper.

"What are you doing?" Lemmy asks, trying to keep his voice calm. "Wendy, what are you doing?"

"I'm evolving."

The answer is so strange that Lemmy stops just long enough for the figure, the force, to come out of the abyssal papers again and glinting scissors to come screaming out— cut through Lemmy's arm. The figure moves to grab, perhaps with the aim of more cutting, but Lemmy is gone away already. His blood coats the surrounding papers.

 _Pas de deux._

"It was all a lie, brother. The religion I loved. The paths I followed. Do you understand? No, of course you do, you understand it was a lie. You were never religious at all, right?"

Finally, the paper air is falling to the ground, removing the mists. Wendy stands some feet away from Lemmy. Her stance is crooked, unnatural, like some great weight is on her. One hand is held outright, scissors straight up, papers impaled on the unnaturally sharp blades and turned bloody by the strike on Lemmy's flesh.

She waves the scissors, and her crooked open-toothed smile seems to tilt with the movement.

"Of course, it was what I needed at the time. I trusted… in this world of pain, there had to be some answers somewhere...some god that would save me. Of course, I believed… I had to…"

There are the hints of tears at the edges of her eyes, but nothing comes out. Her eyes, faded a horribly purplish-gray, just become shinier, more threatening.

"If I read enough texts...if I tried hard enough to become religious, to really believe… a light would open up from the sky, and I would be saved, right?"

So now she was going to talk. She had perhaps just wanted to talk. Maybe she had only attacked Lemmy to get him away from the door, and to scare him to stay still. Nothing was certain now.

"Sure, I…" She looked down at what she had impaled. "Oh. Or even… something godless, like… Kuddhism. Still some high promise, right? Some clue… all these religions point to the same secret truth, don't they? But where does the road go, and why can't I move?"

"What do you want, Wendy?" Lemmy tried to take a deep breath. "Why did you attack me?"

Wendy's head, tilted down, jerked up oddly. "I'm not trying to kill you. Why… I only wanted to hold you, and make you listen… let you listen a little bit, to the sound of the wind…"

She chuckled emptily.

"My god… Ugh…" She trembled a bit, her legs shaking, like she was about to fall to the floor.

"Why don't you drop the scissors?" Lemmy asked.

"Because I don't want to!" Wendy suddenly snarled. "Ha… because there's nothing anyone can tell me. Because… oh yes… this is truly what I want to do. I want to hold these scissors, with your dear blood dripping down the handle, and coating through me… To feel a sensation…"

She suddenly screamed and lunged again. Lemmy jumped and dodged. Now he was on alert.

"This is eternal!" Wendy gasped. "The eternal present, right? What are all the thousands of years of our religions, the tens of thousands of years of the primitive thoughts (Oh Sorcerer, you master of animals, scratched up on the cave! They found you in Trois-Freres, but how long were you whispering up to us, whispering up, ha…?), and the millions, billions of years of existence, when we only really exist right here? Is that the final lesson of our spiritual paths? I can't believe in anything anymore, except that right here, I exist, and reality bends around my hand, my scissors. If I scream loud enough, will the air crack? If I talk long enough, will I wake up in yesterday's bed? If I pray hard enough, if I sit in an empty white room, and I look into the depths (or the heights?) will I break straight through? Oh God, answer me now, if you ever will—!"

She screamed again and in a bizarre single three-hundred-and-sixty degree spin flung the scissors out of her hand and straight for Lemmy.

There could be no reaction. The scissors sliced right through the side of his mouth, cutting open a long line from his mouth and part of his left cheek. Bunched up in curled muscle, the scissors stopped moving and dangled from the torn end of his mouth.

"Oh…" Wendy stopped. "Oh… I'm sorry."

She chuckled a little. "I had to."

Lemmy fell to the floor.

"That wasn't me. The words are me, but underneath." She gestured wildly. "Someone else is… something else is… Do you understand?"

Tears came to Lemmy's eyes.

"Everyone understands, to some degree. You want something so badly, but you can't get it. Your own actions, when you aren't looking, take you away from the future you want." Wendy trembled. "You know? And then you get something else instead, and it's like the future, your path is being planned out by someone else. Right? That… lack of free will… is what made me open up those crusty old books originally. Right?"

Lemmy knew he should get the scissors out, but he just wanted to huddle in pain. He was not a hero. He didn't know how he had even come this far.

"I thought, maybe… that was God." Wendy whispered. "When we can't control ourselves, not ever not really, and it's like someone else is making the decisions. God, fate…

That was my mistake, though. These directional points… that I took for the presence of a higher being… it was the actions of something more malignant. More personal. Complexes, as the doctors would call them, right? What if complexes control everything? Say Freud was more right, and not Jung at all… well, then…

I don't know anything about that, right? But, I do feel that, really…

I am on my own. I guess if no one came to save me by now, there is no god."

Wendy smiled.

"Sure, plenty of people live fine like that, right? I think I'll be okay, too. It's not a big deal. If I had a happier life, it wouldn't be a big deal at all. No. Right? I'm okay, I'm okay."

The shell on her back trembled. Then she twitched. Lemmy, finally glancing up through the pain, saw it— her shell tilting, something purple and hooked creeping out from underneath, scratching at her sides, nails dragging deep into her side, dragging into fresh scars that Lemmy had not really recognized until that moment. Wendy hardly seemed to notice— now she was staring off into space, only blinking vacantly as the mauve tentacles cut into her and drew reddish-gray blood.

"Wendy, what is that?"

"So I will take actions into my own hands, and do exactly what I like." Wendy smiled. "The...funny thing is, though, that I don't like anything at all anymore. Right?"

"Wendy, what is that thing under your shell?"

"I can't walk on the water anymore, so I'll swim through it. I feel the monster swimming by, curling past my sides. But...oh…"

And now her shell was cracking, and finally, breaking apart altogether. As the fragmentsfell they revealed the horror: some cancerous purple-black lump, squirming… blinking… alive. Little bloody stumpy arms were squirming about.

"He told me to kill Daddy, and I thought it was a marvellous idea." Wendy shook. "He whispered to me… to the back of my head. He reaches up, and turns the lights off, and says the good light to me." She opened her palms, fingers spread out. "Good light."

Lemmy was finally moving. Adrenaline was flowing again, and the sight of the wretched creature growing out of his sister's back was the impetus to get him really moving. With a little bridge of effort, he pulled the scissors out of his mouth. They had become unhinged from the impact, and fell apart as they were removed.

Blood dribbled out from Lemmy's mouth, but not an immediately dangerous amount.

"He lived in a cave. He was waiting for someone to save him— so I did it. I heard his call, across space. He's been waiting a long time for someone to save him." Wendy seemed to be talking to no one at all now. "So I said, Ok. I said, ok. OK. I'll save you, and you save me, ok? Ok. Ok. He agrees. Ok."

Some juices dribbled from the open back, onto the shattered shell remnants on the floor. Part of the purple lump sucked inward and puffed outward again.

Wendy walked up to the lone long mirror in the room and turned around, turning her head to look back at the squirming lump on her back. "My baby. My Shroob daddy. My everything. Do you see it now? He is my everything, so I don't need anything anymore. As long as I'm with him, my story is over. I will follow him, whatever he does."

"It's a monster, Wendy," Lemmy gasped. A Shroob, she said? But they were all gone, and no Shroob looked like that…

"He was the future king," Wendy intoned, "The savior of his people. He came in an egg, born from the body of the hideous Queen. He was neither son nor husband nor father. An eternal male, present within the woman. He was her everything, her internal definition. When she died, he emerged. Do you understand?"

Lemmy held the scissors, lightly rubbing them.

"No, I don't think you can." Wendy smiled. "You have not suffered as much as I have. Only those who suffer can see the truth."

"I've suffered plenty." Lemmy stood up shakily. "You know that. We all suffered under our father."

"But I felt more!" Wendy insisted, crying out a bit. "Isn't that the secret? It doesn't matter who you are, whether you live at the bottom in the muck or in a castle on high. If you feel more, the running waters of reality will begin to pour into you, like a deeper hole in the canyon floor. My hole reaches deep."

"You can't reject my suffering." Lemmy growled. "We may be siblings, but you don't know my soul, just as I don't know yours. ...No one ever truly makes contact with another being."

"Wrong!" Wendy suddenly crowed. "I can tap into the universal source! God is the river underneath us all, that connects all of us. With my Shroob Father I can sink in deep. He will live in this world for me, and my consciousness will sink down into the black sea. Then, finally, I will find God…"

So she is really delusional, Lemmy decided (as if the raving wasn't enough). She announced only a moment ago that she no longer believed in God.

"Your philosophy is distorted," Lemmy declared, "You believed something solid at one point, but you were shattered… you were probably cracked years before, but that thing on your back broke you completely. Your ideas and beliefs scattered into hundreds, if not thousands, of pieces. Your world view is nonsense, contradictory."

"That's the basis of religion!" Wendy trembled. "The unification of paradoxes!"

"This is all to essentially say that you're trying to kill your brother for no reason." Lemmy ground out. "Words are infinite, and finally dust, in the face of actions. There was no action you could find to save yourself, so you fell into an ocean of words. With only words, you built castles of sand. You wanted to live with them, but they could only collapse, again and again."

"And now you say words to me!"

"You're right." Lemmy nodded. "So I still need to take action."

The situation was so bizarre, so impossible, that it felt like he was back days ago, slipping into that other world with the slip of paper. This was the continuation— his newfound wisdom still carried him, and everything seemed clear. (And he was realizing, it was giving him nothing, but only revealing what was most truly, powerfully him—)

"Alright," He said, mostly to himself.

Wendy made a wild jerk like she was going to move forward, but her back wrenched wildly, and she suddenly twisted around. The squirming, bloated thing on her back waved around wildly, like some great parasite or giant maggot, a tardigrade's legs, waving. Those bloated, noxious limbs… could they even hurt?

They glistened purple, wet and sticky. It was…

Poison. Lemmy stopped and backed away.

The eyeless thing squeaked and squelched, then belched, gorging out the same purple fluid that covered its body. The stinking substance coated the floor, burning a puddle through papers and rug.

"He's so hungry…" Wendy laughed hollowly. "I can only… feed him so much myself, you know. My blood is rough nourishment, for my shroob father. For my daddy. He prefers full, thick flesh. But I can't give too much of that...otherwise, I'd fall right apart."

Lemmy glanced quickly around the room. There had to be something long he could use to strike the monster. Or something blunt and heavy to toss. He couldn't risk getting near.

Wait— there.

"If he can't get anything else, he'll have no choice, of course." Wendy shrugged a little, tilted so that one shoulder was some inches below the other. "He will eat me, if he has to."

She chuckled again. "You won't let him eat me, will you?"

She wasn't really that powerful. The idea flashed across his mind: locking her in this room, barring the windows. Or luring her down to Bowser's old, dungeon-like room, that grisly garden beneath the castle. Let the monster devour her and then itself…

Or simply run, let the guards come in. With their weapons they would surely run her right through as well (if there was any chance of saving Wendy at all…)

No. He wouldn't. He wouldn't do it. He had promised her… all those years ago. He would always protect her. He had failed utterly, of course. Wendy had suffered horribly, and after the War of Succession and Lemmy had killed his brothers, he had lost too much of himself to be able to support her when she needed it. As a member of his family, he had failed completely. But now, if there was anything he could do… if he could at least save her life...

He simply ran for it. He had a lot of courage that he might not have been able to find just a week ago. He moved to the right wall of the room, picking up a heavy religious icon that had its head melted off. It could be heavy enough to knock her out...

"Ha…" Wendy garbled, and turned her back to Lemmy. As Lemmy turned to face her, the Shroob vomited another torrent of purple acid, spraying out a high arc. Lemmy brought the icon up like a shield. Taking the acid attack, it began to dissolve immediately. Lemmy tossed the remaining disintegrating fragments to the ground and bolted away, moving to the farther end of the room where Wendy had originally been laying. Now Wendy was between him and the door.

"I could escape…" She said ponderously. "I could get out…" She shivered. "But that's a trap. Every hope is a trap, right? Didn't we learn that? You have soldiers all throughout the halls. I could take one, or two, or maybe three… but there could be hundreds out there. Hundreds running the halls. All out to kill me." She trembled, and her eyes rolled madly. "You think I don't know? I know… every step, is a trap."

Lemmy backed up against the desk and the wall. "So what will you do, Wendy? Where will you go?"

"I'll wait for night. Or… I'll kill you, and then they'll be too scared to attack me. If I killed the king, that's a big deal, right? I'll use fear as authority. Without any real power, I'll present myself as a great authority. Not so different from before…" She coughed and laughed in a nasty torrent, spitting up some flecks of purple saliva.

Lemmy shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense." (Like all the rest of it.) "If there's any chance you're still listening, I am telling you— you must kill that thing. That thing on your back must die. It is evil."

"There's no such thing as evil!" Wendy shrieked suddenly, evidently triggered. "You're wrong, it's either all or nothing. Either God wanted all of this to happen, or there is no God and nothing matters. It doesn't matter in the end! If God exists, he loves evil as much as he loves good, and if he doesn't, then there are no standards for good or evil."

"There are standards that people create." Lemmy replied quietly. "There's something universal, underneath everything. You can feel it… even as you do bad, go against the universal grain, obscure justice, however you want to put it… you can feel the pain, the wrong of it. Your reactions right now show it."

"No!" Wendy gnashed her teeth. "You're an idiot. Every society through history has had different moral standards. Different religions, different ideologies..."

"Yet they fundamentally agree on certain points. They echo laws of nature."

"And yet, and yet… You say all this as the King of the Koopas!" Wendy seized on this idea excitedly. "What a proud and noble history we have lead!- Is that what you believe?"

"Is that the source of your guilt?" Lemmy asked quietly. "Our roles… our father, and us, and our endless attacks on the Mushroom Kingdom? Is that where this pain comes from originally?"

"If there's good and evil, then we're evil anyway! What do you say to that, brother?"

"We did what we had to, to survive under our father." Lemmy replied sadly. "Our father was demented, there's no way around that. But that doesn't change the fact we're our own people. Our father is gone now. ...You did that. Now we can lead our own lives."

We can be better."

"Words words words!" Wendy spat. "You said it yourself— words are useless."

Now she was really upset, Lemmy thought. She's agitated, her eyes rolling, not in tune anymore. It's the opportunity.

He picked up the radio that was laying on the table. "Is this what you used to find that thing?" He suddenly felt guided by something inside.

"The radio!" Wendy exclaimed. "Oh yes… the signal… it was the only way…"

"You've studied so much and learned so far, and yet you missed something."

"What?" Wendy stared at Lemmy fixedly. The edges of her eyes were turning purple. "What did you just say?"

"You fundamentally misunderstood the message." Lemmy said evenly. He came up close to Wendy, so that they were nearly face-to-face.

"What? What?"

The mass on Wendy's back gurgled.

"You're lying." Wendy hissed. "He says you're lying."

"Listen." Lemmy turned the radio dial. With his sharpened memory, he could still remember the number the follower had told him. "What do you hear?" Lemmy lifted the radio above his head.

Static, dribbling silence, poured from the radio. The Shroob Father was no longer in the valley cave, so there was nothing to send the original transmission.

"There's nothing." Wendy pronounced coldly. "There's no sound." She was shaking. The thing on her back was squirming, almost trying to reach around her and get to Lemmy.

"That's exactly right." Lemmy replied. " _He_ is not the eternal."

Wendy paled.

"What?"

Lemmy inhaled. "He is not the eternal."

And as Wendy's face began to harden again, and the slight weight of the moment threatened to dissipate, Lemmy brough the radio down, over Wendy's head, onto the lumpy mass on her back. There was a breaking: a metallic cracking and mushy organic crushing, a violent sound.

Wendy screamed and fell to the ground, as if she had been struck. Lemmy stepped back in worry. Wendy curled up and twisted into a fetal position, so that her back and the Shroob Father, now with a large part of its head crushed in, turned facing up at Lemmy. Lemmy swung the dented radio back down onto the creature, and at the same time, limbs wiggling madly, the creature belched its awful liquid out onto his right foot.

Lemmy crushed its head in right before the pain registered, and he fell to his knees with a short scream. The flesh on top of his right foot quickly melted down to bone.

The Shroob Father, meanwhile, even with its "head" crushed in, was still moving. Its legs wiggled wildly, and the body heaved around and around like a circumambulation. It rumbled like trying to give birth, or trying to detach itself from Wendy. It seized and jerked at the air, spattering a light purple mist.

Perhaps it was the extreme pain of his dissolving foot, or the crossing of some mental threshold of horror, but Lemmy's precise and cool aura seemed to up and tumble away all in an instant.

"Fuck. Fuck!"

 _It's okay…_ Something seemed to say in him, _It's almost done…_

The remnant creature pulsed and crunched, and then as horribly predicted, half of it broke free from Wendy's back, waving three bloated limbs in the air. It slapped itself up at the air and down on Wendy's back, clearly trying to break free.

"Fuck...fuck…" After everything, it seemed to be all Lemmy could say anymore. He looked around. He didn't want to bring the radio down again, in fear of harming Wendy further. Was there something else…?

There— the shell fragments. Wendy's shell, still in pieces, including pieces of the spikes that all of Bowser's children had. But they were more blunt than precisely sharp. Instead… there was one cracked piece of shell, like broken pottery, that was fractured in such a way that it provided a sharpened edge.

Lemmy stared at the piece.

 _God provides._ The thought rose up in him without any conscious effort. He had to had to hold his breath to keep from breaking out in mad laughter.

He seized the piece, and with an awful gasp lurched forward, twisting over his bad foot (his gone foot) and grabbed the back of Wendy's leg, steadying himself. He pulled himself up so that he was above her back and the thrashing creature.

The creature in turn squealed and lurched more violently, apparently realizing what was happening.

"God damn…" Lemmy muttered, somewhere in the last realms of shock. Arm raised above his head, he brought the shell fragment down into the back of the monster.

It was an excellent hit. The Shroob Father was squishy and fragile like a crustacean without its shell, so the stab went right through it.

It screamed out, and Lemmy stabbed it again. It screamed once more, and with a last few convulsive jerks, it broke free and toppled off of Wendy. No discernible head and a pierced through body leaking alien blood, it jerked two more times, and with a sound of air puttering out, its limbs dropped and it died.

Lemmy crawled over besides Wendy. He held his breath, but quickly saw with relief that she was still breathing. He sighed.

Still— it was bad. Without the Shroob Father, and without her shell, Wendy's back was a bloody mess. One part of her spine was even visible. Koopas had survived losing their shells before, but Wendy's case was naturally different. That thing on her back had been eating her.

"Wendy." Lemmy touched her arm. "Wendy."

"It's okay." Wendy mumbled.

It was a remarkably surprising thing to say.

"It's okay." She repeated cryptically.

Lemmy tried an awkward hug, reaching around her neck rather than her back.

"We need to get out of here." He stated.

The pain that had moved into his leg (for he could no longer feel the pulp and bone of what used to be his right foot) reminded him he would hardly be getting anywhere. As for Wendy, she was in no state to move at all.

There was a rapid knock at the door.

"King Lemmy!" A guard shouted.

Lemmy trembled with a distant internal laugh. He had forgotten he had an entire castle of servants.

"King Lemmy, are you in there?"

He wondered momentarily how the soldier had found him. "Yes." He called out, raising his head up. "Come…"

The sound of his voice probably indicated his physical state, because the soldier burst in without waiting for Lemmy's permission.

He ran in, looking nearly as fraught as Lemmy and Wendy, sans signs of physical harm. "My lord, the moon, the moon…"

His eyes fell onto Lemmy and Wendy and the remains of the Shroob Father and the overall complete fucking mess of the room.

"...The moon just exploded." He finished weakly.

Lemmy dropped his head back.

Why not? He thought.


	16. 14-B-1: B (Episode Ensemble 5)

Chapter 14 (Episode Ensemble 5)

[Side B-1: Bolero]

It would be nothing very remarkable to say that the events of December 30th, 2014, leading into the New Year day of January 1st, 2015, are events of great historical importance. And like any historical event, there is as much that the general population know of the event as that they do not know.

Unlike many important historical turning points, in the years following that twilight between 2014 and 2015, it was proposed by some, initially mostly mystics and hippies, that 2015 should be marked as the beginning of a new calendar, a new year 1 for our planet.

Perhaps it had been long enough? After all, what did the old calendar measure that still mattered to the people of the world, especially in this increasingly global and culturally diverse society? The old calendar marked year 1 as that of the birth of a certain prophet, a figure of originally great religious importance within an ancient series of fragmented kingdoms that over many turbulent centuries were sweepingly conquered by the ravenous Opisthokont Empire.

But by now, centuries after the fall of Opisthokont, the world was so much larger than before, and it was discovered (or perhaps, it was made unarguably clear) that other places existed, places where different saviors lived, different heroes, and different traditions, and that to define the timeline of the entire world by the mark of one ancient, localized tradition was perhaps no longer appropriate.

As written previously, at first only mystics seriously proposed this. Almost no one else really cared about how the years were measured, whatever the beliefs or geographical origins of the person involved. The old system worked well enough, regardless of who it was measured by, or what incredible events had transpired in recent times.

But after some further twenty or thirty years had passed, historians began to follow the lead of the mystics. The days that ended 2014 and began 2015 may in fact have been the seed of the colorful and world-shaking events that continue to sweep the world at a rapid pace, to this time. Certainly previous events lead into later events that ultimately provided the context for what happened that New Year's time, but if there was one conclusively impactful moment— when great nations changed leaders, when the physical state of the planet was changed, when certain people were struck by natural inspiration from the moment and thoughts were born that sprouted into further cultural spirals— that day seemed increasingly clear.

As written, however, the internal details of the events remained almost entirely unknown for a very long time.

Lumen Toadstool, the prince of the Mushroom Kingdom at the time, had become addicted to a certain drug. When our events of interest were happening, Lumen would not have described himself as "addicted". He would have explained that the benefits of the drug were so great that one could not really describe him as being in a state of addiction. Addiction implied impairment, addiction implied a negative state. Lumen would explain he was not impaired, that he was in fact improved. His was not a negative state, but a positive one.

Certainly, as he continued to take the drug, he remained apparently more quick-witted than before, apparently calmer, apparently able to… predict the future.

It was with this quicker wit that Lumen Toadstool, running about Mushroom Castle and Toad Town in the approximately two weeks before the New Year, made a number of surprising discoveries, including: the completion of the V8 Rocket, Toadbert Oppen's murder, Queen Peach's odd manuevers… Warning signs, as it were. Prompted by an "internal intelligence" only he sensed by use of his drug, Lumen followed sign after sign, at the same time bewildered and assured by the path that seemed to be marked out for him.

The scrutinizing reader, one with an especial interest in causes and effects, that mechanical tick-tock of the world, may question precisely what steps Lumen took (or that occurred to him) to discover what secrets he did, and to finally come to the conclusion that he and his friend Kali would need to break into the Mushroom Kingdom's Buoy Base and stop whatever plot was unfolding there.

Your dear amateur historian (and his humble thesis paper) must bow and admit that he is not certain. One can always research in any direction and discover any number of new secrets, but alas, this historian admits that the detective work of Lumen Toadstool, assisted by a chemical imbalance (or divine assistance, as that artist might spin) is of least importance to your historian's own studies. Your dear amateur historian admits further that at times he feels he paints the portrait of earlier, less interesting events, if only to explain and provide an elementary foundation for later events of greater curiosity.

In any case, it all lead to Lumen Toadstool and Kali traveling to Buoy Base out in the great World Ocean, taking a boat belonging to the revolutionary organization that Kali belonged to, and by December 30th, arriving outside of that floating island of research and war Buoy Base.

Now there are more questions. Why Kali? What about Doopliss? Why not some members of the Mushroom Castle guard? What of Sola?

Let us pretend to ask Lumen, but a hypothetical calculating Lumen, one that would answer the logistical questions straight out without referring to emotion and concerns of the heart.

Kali was necessary for the boat, one that did not belong to the Mushroom royal family, and thus would not be under Peach's control— a royal boat would likely bring Lumen in effective chains directly to the dangerous mastermind, or more accurately, into a situation less in Lumen's control than entering the Base on his own terms.

Doopliss was unnecessary. His transforming abilities would seem to have much use in the possible conflict, and the stealth necessary for the oncoming operation, but ultimately, these abilities were inconsequential.

More importantly, if asked, Doopliss would have staunchly refused to participate.

Perhaps in a colorful animated program, you may gather all your friends together and in one great effort, overcome the enemy. But, more realistically, you must divide by ability. In fact, Doopliss was a largely apathetic character, one in general seizure of uncertainty and despair at the continuous loss of his memory, and as the New Year approached, he would always be in an even more helpless and sad mood than usual. Perhaps, again, in that colorful program, Lumen may give a rousing speech to Doopliss to cheer him up and make him a productive part of the team, and perhaps such a thing, in a world where all the perfect words present themselves to the right people, would be possible— but in the end, it did not matter. Lumen believed he could handle what he needed to at the top of Buoy Base by himself. He theoretically did not even need Kali, if he had his own boat.

He was completely wrong, but that is what he thought regardless.

As for taking along the Mushroom Guard? Well, who could be trusted? Ultimately, all were subordinate to the queen.

And Sola? Sister Sola? Again, does it not suffice to say that Lumen believed he could go ahead alone? Besides, Sola would be heading to Buoy Base herself in answer to the queen's summons, as Lumen had some inkling of…

Regardless—

I will cease explanation here.

We can explain that Lumen and Kali were able to sail so close to Buoy Base because the aerial guards above could tell that Prince Lumen was riding in the boat, and as per orders, he was to be brought to Buoy Base anyway. If he was bringing himself— all the better.

Historically, theories differ on how Lumen and Kali entered the Base. Here is what we know:

Lumen and Kali were not taken in by the guards waiting at the front entrance dock.

Kali escaped the base by piloting the prototype mobile armor weapon ZETA-AL.

Lumen ultimately arrived on the roof of Buoy Base.

So it would seem they could not have gone through the front entrance of the Base. We have access to blueprints of the base, from which we can see that security was enormously airtight. Besides the front entrance, there were only three other smaller ways in (two of them high above the ocean), all of which would be even harder to infiltrate than the front.

Besides this, the ZETA-AL weapon was stored at the very bottom of the base, below water level.

There was an underwater spout that led into that underwater storage, directly linked to a whirlpool outside the base— a geographical oddity. It had originally existed as a natural whirlpool out in the ocean, but upon the impact of the original Shroob ship crashing into the sea, creating what would later be Buoy Base, the whirlpool became linked with the Base, increased in strength, and oddly linked.

The whirlpool and Buoy Base were so physically connected. The bottom of the whirlpool directly connected a vortex into the bottom of Buoy Base.

Regardless of all that followed, I find this idea hardest to believe!: That Lumen and Kali could have sailed directly into the vortex, thus emerging directly into the underwater hangar of Buoy Base? Exactly where the Zeta-AL would have been, and the base of the back staircase up that Lumen could take to arrive at the roof of the tower?

Why? Why? What could possibly have motivated them to drive into the whirl? Even had Lumen (or Kali) been aware of the way through, they must have known that it was largely a hypothetical thing. Thinking that a boat could fit through was preposterous… believing that taking such a route would result in anything besides underwater death...! How, how could —

* * *

 _I see a stairway so I follow it down, into the belly of a whale where my secrets echo all around_

* * *

Doopliss hardly moves. "What is it?"

"I think I've heard this before…" Lumen gestures toward the radio. "It's… but I know I haven't."

"Every song is the same," Doopliss repeated, somewhat proudly.

"I think I've been hearing this song… this exact song, out when I've been walking." Lumen concentrated. "When I was sleeping, too…?" He thought about it some more.

* * *

 _I can't forget I am a sole architect, I bui_ _lt the shadows here, I built the growl in the voice I fear_

* * *

The movie theater. New Year's, 2003. While Yoshi had been buying tickets at the box office outside, Lumen waiting in the sweet slight cold, had heard the song billowing out from a nearby window, from someone's apartment. The strange lyrics, indecipherable to his eight-year-old self, had danced through his mind as he had watched the movie, until the point when his full concentration was taken by the hero's gaze on-screen, looking toward the holy mountain—

—But THAT song had no source in his memory, he was sure. At least, even with his mind enhanced and running free he couldn't quite search it out, find it, and dust it off… And he felt like now he could find anything, do anything, answer anything…

* * *

Radio scratches… the channel changes. But no one's hands are on the dial…

* * *

"That's it," Lumen declared. Even with the pounding certainty crashing down on him, a layer of fear still danced below his mind. "The whirlpool."

Though it was late December, these seas were warm enough that Lumen and Kali could survive wearing several jackets.

Kali, driving the motorboat, was arcing around Buoy Base, looking for some way in.

"What about the whirlpool?"

Lumen _hummm_ ed beneath his breath. "As we passed it, I began to get this feeling. I think... I fell into a dream for a little bit…" He pressed a palm against his forehead. "We have to drive straight into the whirlpool."

"Surely you're joking, Mr. Lumen." Kali said in an oddly detached voice.

"You've dreamed about this too, right?" Lumen turned around in his seat and looked back at the way they had come. "If we turn back now, it'll take five minutes. We need to do this before the guards above us catch on."

If just anyone had approached Buoy Base, falling into the churning whirlpool nearby would have been considered a successful defense of the facility. The prince Lumen, however, would be rescued if it seemed like such a thing was going to happen.

"They're already on higher alert because we passed the front gate." Lumen turned back around. "We'd better hurry."

"This sounds like suicide," Kali said again, but her tone was still strange, like she had already ceded the issue.

"It sounds like it. But it's not." Lumen tapped his hands on the side of the boat. "It's a staircase. It's the way in."

"Uagh, god…" Kali grit her beak, and then suddenly turned the boat in a 180, so fast that Lumen was thrown against the inside of his seat. Pointed the bow directly back towards the whirlpool and south wall of Buoy Base, they returned to driving forward in a straight line.

"You saw this too, or heard it— right?"

"Yes, yeah…" Kali snapped lightly. "I know. I can feel it underneath everything. It doesn't make it too much better."

Hm. Lumen relaxed a little more into his seat. That was true— the knowledge that this still had to happen didn't make it much better.

It was a funny feeling. Like that ancient archer Arjuna in his chariot, driven by another (another K!) fate dictating the path. What was up to him was the acceptance: to go forth into that battle, that fall into the whirlpool, and the confrontation with his family without internal struggle—

History was a wheel, and yet still, it turned somewhere new, didn't it? The wheel is engraved with those events and actions that must happen again and again, played out by different actors and actresses, yet the wheel still all along rolling down the road.

But then, what was the road?

"Wakey wakey," Kali muttered, "I don't want to be the only one consciously aware of this."

"Ah." Lumen looked up. There was the whirlpool— absolutely massive, funneling down into some unclear point below.

"Say it's the way in, again," Kali said, "I want to hear that."

"It's the only way in."

"When you talk with that absolute certainty, I can believe it." Kali grimaced. "If there were any real sages… any real religions...they would speak like that. Not with haughtiness, not with that aristocratic air of control over the poor and the weak, but with intelligent, clear-eyed certainty."

"How hard have you looked?"

The boat tipped over the edge of the maelstrom.

"Not very." Kali laughed, edging into anxiety. The boat was now only about half in her control. "If this world was fair, if we weren't divided by imaginary class and wealth, no one would need an idea of heaven at all."

"I don't know." Lumen looked towards the center. "Wouldn't there still be suffering?"

"Ah, for god's sake," Kali grinned, "Are we finally having this conversation? Now of all times?"

"Kali, if we survive all of this, I'll follow your path." Lumen said seriously. "I'll try to take it on— this material fire."

"If we survive?!" Kali looked at him. "This is the way in, right?"

"I don't mean the whirlpool. I mean everything else that will follow. I don't even know, but... " Lumen looked directly at her. "I know you have your own purposes here. You've come to Buoy Base to find something."

Kali's mouth set.

"Just promise me you won't kill anyone. Unless your life is in danger."

Kali opened her mouth a little, then shut it again.

Now the boat was curving around the far side of the whirlpool, opposite from where they entered. Soon they would be within the inner rings.

"Yeah." Kali swallowed. "I promise."

Lumen nodded slightly, and exhaled some air.

She looked back at him. "I don't want to kill anyone, Lumen. It's all deterrence."

Sola would ask what kind of deterrence the Beanbean people were showing, Lumen thought.

But Lumen thought in return: The Mushroom Kingdom was very different from the Beanbean Kingdom. Kali was different.

"Okay," Lumen said quietly, "You promised."

Kali was about to say something else, but the simultaneously funny and threatening sound of soft puttering from above made them both stop. They looked up.

Two helicopters were descending, dispatched from the Base.

"PRINCE LUMEN." The sound came out blaring and crackly, distorted by the wind and foam and waves. "WE ARE HERE TO SAVE YOU."

"Ha!" Kali gagged. "You hear that? They're here to save you from yourself."

"UNIDENTIFIED KOOPA, SLOW YOUR VEHICLE DOWN."

"Hey, I want assurance they're gonna save me too," Kali cracked to Lumen. "Damn. And I'm 'unidentified koopa', huh? I'd hope they'd recognize me from the Toad Town square protests."

She cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled out: "Hey, how about May 18th? Don't I look familiar at all?"

"I'm certain they can't hear you." Lumen leaned forward. "And I think, if we can, we should try to go faster."

"Gads, the way you keep your cool." Kali slumped down again. "You've been taking that stuff non-stop for the last few weeks, huh?"

"Just every few days…" Lumen swallowed. "Enough to keep myself going."

"Keep yourself…?" At the same time, Kali pressed forward on the pedal. The boat, already propelled by the vortex, began to move faster.

"Psychically active," Lumen replied, as if in explanation.

But it was. It was an explanation. She knew what he was saying— or felt it, at least.

"PRINCE LUMEN, WE ARE GOING TO RESCUE YOU. STAY CALM."

"Eld," Kali scowled.

"UNIDENTIFIED KOOPA, SLOW THE VEHICLE DOWN."

Kali pressed the pedal down harder.

"I think we'll be under in two or three more minutes." Lumen estimated.

"Don't put it like that."

"PRINCE LUMEN, CAN YOU HEAR US? PLEASE MAKE SOME SIGN OF ACKNOWLEDGEMENT."

Kali turned the wheel. "If I was you, I'd give them the finger."

"Ha."

"You know, I'm sort of glad these clowns showed up. They're distracting me."

"PRINCE LUMEN, WE ARE DEPLOYING A ROPE LADDER."

"They're pretty good, keeping that thing above us," Kali commented, trembling leaking into her voice, "Soon, we're gonna have to—"

The end of the rope ladder fell smack onto her head.

"Damn! Get this thing off of me!"

"Yup, yup, trying." Lumen was standing up now in the slightly tipping boat, reaching out to pull the ladder away.

"PRINCE LUMEN… GRAB ON TO THE ROPE LADDER."

Kali looked up at him, as he grabbed the rope. "Last chance."

He smiled. "No doubts."

There was a large hunting knife in a compartment of the boat. Lumen used it to cut the bottom rung of the ladder off.

Kali snorted. "Well, you didn't have to go that far."

"Symbolic effect."

"PRINCE LUMEN—"

Lumen and Kali would never get to hear the attempted rescuer's reaction. It was at that moment that an odd spout of wave burst out of the whirl's wall, throwing the boat toppling sideways, and tossing Lumen and Kali straight out.

The rest was darkness.

* * *

(... _thewwww…_ )

R.S..: I believe in "correct fear". I believe there is a difference between "incorrect fear", and "correct fear".

J.R.: Go on.

R.S.: "Correct fear" is felt when you are afraid, but you also know what you are doing is right. You can sense yourself guided. You don't doubt, or if you do, the strength of the way of the movement pushes you on. That's what heroes feel— what, uh, what people call heroes. They were in the right place at the right time, and they did the right thing. They hardly had time to think about it. They didn't think about it.

J.R.: And "incorrect fear" then, is... without that sense of guidance?

R.S.: That's right. And the separation point is actually very easy to mark out. "Correct fear" comes from a determination, a purpose you set out for yourself. It was something you wanted before, or you knew, from within yourself... you needed to do it.

( _...thewww..._ )

R.S.: "Incorrect fear" almost always comes from something someone else wants you to do, but that you, inside, really don't want. You don't have the courage to follow through, because your deeper self doesn't want it.

J.R.: Your deeper self. Hmm. But don't many people say they gain courage from those around them?

R.S.: Yes, if their inner self is in alignment with those around them. If they feel they have a common cause. If the person faced with fear feels alone, truly or not, then they will not sense themselves in alignment with those around them.

J.R.: Can you give some examples?

R.S.: Well, for instance… say, some of the experiences we've heard about in Vietkong.

J.R.: (Cough) That's a bit of a delicate subject, isn't it Mr. Starrling?

R.S.: We don't need to go into detail. Just consider, some soldiers have had no trouble crossing into enemy territory, regardless of the dangers. Others, ah, deserted.

J.R.: Isn't that more a matter of patriotism, Mr. Starrling?

R.S.: Perhaps it is also a matter of patriotism. Perhaps the matters are closely related.

( _...thewwww..._ )

R.S.: Now we've withdrawn. The nuclear age we're entering will keep men off the battlefield. At least those of our own nation. Queen Peach hasn't been threatened with capture in any way for the last three years. It's worth being optimistic over.

J.R.: That's quite true. Eldstar bless the Queen.

( _...thewwwwww…_ )

* * *

"We're alive."

Cough.

"As necessary."

Kali glanced over. Despite his words, Lumen looked just as pale as she must have been.

They were both sitting, soaked with water, shivering against the wall of the Base's underwater hangar. They faced the back side of what could have been anything, but could most clearly be described as a large metal ovoid.

Nearby was the long canal they and the remains of the boat had been dumped into, out from a chute high up on the wall that continuously poured out sea water. The water followed the course of the canal, turning the corner out of sight, and presumably draining back out into the ocean. The crumpled heap of the boat had already floated along that way.

"It's kind of a miracle we survived, yeah?"

Cough.

"I wouldn't think about it too long." Lumen smiled. "We made it. We knew we would before. It was only in the moment that it was frightening."

"Right…" Kali settled her voice. "OK."

"A bit fortunate, really. The opposite of most life situations."

They sat in silence for another moment.

"We should probably get moving," Kali declared.

"Hmm… If they think there's any way we survived, they'd have to come here." Lumen nodded. "OK. Let's go."

He paused.

"You're… going your own way?"

"Yeah, that's right."

Kali averted her eyes for a moment, then looked back to Lumen. "It'll be okay."

Pause. Cough.

"Okay." Lumen nodded.

They stood in silence for a moment that Lumen would remember later as awkward, but at the time felt necessary.

Kali raised a clawed hand. "Let's shake on it."

"Shake on what?"

"Shake that everything will turn out okay. And that we'll meet again."

"Of course we'll meet again," Lumen said softly, but he still took her hand and shook it. He was half aware that some tears were coming to his eyes.

"You big baby," Kali smirked, "Yeah. We're completely different people."

She didn't sound convinced of this, but the words seemed to settle something for her, and she suddenly broke the handshake and turned away. "Alright, now go. Go. I mean, go save the world, or talk with your mother, or whatever Oedipal garbage you're dealing with."

 _It's not Oedipal,_ he was going to say, but she was already running off. She already knew where she was going. She'd do what she needed to escape Buoy Base, he knew. Just as he'd get to where he needed to.

They hadn't fallen into the whirlpool for nothing.

* * *

Buoy Base has 200 floors.

Lumen and Kali entered Buoy Base in the second basement floor. Kali remained on the second basement floor to take care of what she needed to.

Lumen walked the stairs to the first basement floor. He was taking a back stairway, one that reached all the way up to the top of the base. Because he was a member of the royal family, his handprint worked as security clearance for each floor of the base— a privilege he had never taken advantage of before. That was also how he knew of the existence of the stairway, in blueprints he had studied in the Mushroom Castle archives.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the first proper floor. The stairs were plain cement, gray. As was the ceiling. As was the entirety of the passage.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the second floor. There were less people present in the tower than usual because Peach had ordered the place nearly empty. She wanted only the personnel who were necessary to launch the V8 Rocket and the ArkAngel ship.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the third floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the fourth floor. On some floors, such as this one, there was a very narrow window leading to the outside. Cool sea air crept through.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the sixth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the seventh floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the eighth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the ninth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the tenth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the eleventh floor. He started to get hungry.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the twelfth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the thirteenth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the fourteenth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the fifteenth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the sixteenth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the seventeenth floor. He was surprised he was already hungry.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the eighteenth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the nineteenth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the twentieth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the twenty-first floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the twenty-second floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the twenty-third floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the twenty-fourth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the twenty-fifth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the twenty-sixth floor. He had one crushed sandwich in his pocket.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the twenty-seventh floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the twenty-eighth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the twenty-ninth floor. Is that a crushed sandwich in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the thirtieth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the thirty-first floor. Ha.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the thirty-second floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the thirty-third floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the thirty-fourth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the thirty-fifth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the thirty-sixth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the thirty-seventh floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the thirty-eighth floor. Doo doo doo do doo doo...

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the thirty-ninth floor. Doo doo doo…

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the fortieth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the forty-first floor. Doo doo doo— That is to say, what Lumen hummed in his head for a few moments. Outwardly, he climbed mostly in silence.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the forty-second floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the forty-third floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the forty-fourth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the forty-fifth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the forty-sixth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the forty-seventh floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the forty-eighth floor. One-quarter of the way there. Right? I think. If he started on the second basement floor, then...

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the forty-ninth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the fiftieth floor. One-quarter of the way there if he hadn't started on the second basement floor. If he had started on the first floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the fifty-first floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the fifty-second floor. Wait, that's not right. If he had started on the first floor, there wouldn't be two hundred floors to climb. So the fraction wouldn't be the same.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the fifty-third floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the fifty-fourth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the fifty-fifth floor. He had forgotten about his hunger. It suddenly came back with a force, so Lumen stopped and ate the crumpled sandwich. It was okay. It didn't actually have mushrooms.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the fifty-sixth floor. Lumen didn't like mushrooms.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the fifty-seventh floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the fifty-eighth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the fifty-ninth floor. Is there no crumpled sandwich in your pocket, or are you just not happy to see me?

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the sixtieth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the sixty-first floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the sixty-second floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the sixty-third floor. If he hadn't been in an altered mental state, he might have been a little bit more bored. Maybe a lot more bored.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the sixty-fourth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the sixty-fifth floor. What was so special about the number "64"? No, really?

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the sixty-sixth floor. 8 X 8 = 64

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the sixty-seventh floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the sixty-eighth floor. He should have been more tired, right?

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the sixty-ninth floor. 69! HAhahahahahahahahaha!

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the seventieth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the seventy-first floor. Yeah, but what about 64?

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the seventy-second floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the seventy-third floor. 64 was a sacred number in some religion, or something. Something like that.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the seventy-fourth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the seventy-fifth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the seventy-sixth floor. Did he even have a definite plan for when he got to the top? No, not really. But then, he hadn't realized he'd have to go through the whirlpool until he and Kali had passed it.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the seventy-seventh floor. So this was spur of the moment thinking, was it? Think on your feet. Use intuition. —But that was the funny secret, wasn't it? That the reason living by your intuition was so powerful was because you were essentially following the instructions of someone or something else— something apparently smarter than you.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the seventy-eighth floor. That is to say, something inside of you. Classic followers of Starism would probably call it the "holy spirit", the part of Eldstar that everyone carries around inside of them.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the seventy-ninth floor. What does science say? Science doesn't seem to like the idea of second personalities existing inside of people. Some of the theoretical psychologists covered this stuff, at least. Freud might say there are three major aspects inside of you— Ego, Superego, and Id. Your consciousness, you, the observer, would be separate from those. Then, it's up to you to take what instructions you will.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the eightieth floor. That's just an interpretation. Lumen didn't know that much about psychology. He believed in uncovering the secrets of the "unconscious" in his art movies, so he went ahead and studied a bit.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the eighty-first floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the eighty-second floor. The Superego is the authority voice, that which is always worried about the morality of society. It usually tells you what _not_ to do. Often, the Superego can be too strong. Then, it becomes a dragon that must be killed.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the eighty-third floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the eighty-fourth floor. The Id is chaos, the wild instincts that lie underneath all, at the bottom of the mind. It is the source of creation and destruction. Maybe.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the eighty-fifth floor. The superego wants to keep power away from the id, so-to-speak. If people lived purely on instinct (id), who knows what would happen?

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the eighty-sixth floor. (Probably violence. To put it mildly.)

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the eighty-seventh floor. Then there's the ego itself, which is apparently the balancer in-between the superego and id. Maybe that's the smarter self inside you, that's already doing the balancing.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the eighty-eighth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the eighty-ninth floor. If it's not confusing enough, ego has a negative connotation in modern society. Having a "strong ego" is bad, but it's not clear if that has anything to do with Freud's original definition of ego.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the ninetieth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the ninety-first floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the ninety-second floor. Wait, how was he not tired? Really…

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the ninety-third floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the ninety-fourth floor. He needed to sit. He was getting dizzy. But he was almost halfway there.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the ninety-fifth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the ninety-sixth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the ninety-seventh floor. Yeah…

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the ninety-eighth floor. This should be the halfway point, right? Starting from… basement floor… yeah, yeah, whatever. It's fine. It's a good place for a break. His head is starting to fade a little. He's tired, but he should keep going. He's not sure what time it is. He and Kali arrived at Buoy Base in the morning. So…

The rockets probably wouldn't be launched without him, right? His mother would wait for him to be found, wouldn't she? The poetry or whatever (good lord) of launching the rockets at New Year… that wouldn't go through… she'd wait, right?

He sighed. These damp cement steps, endlessly climbing upward. It'd be nice if there were more windows.

Yeah…

He fell asleep for a little while.

It was just a little. It was hard to tell exactly, what with the lack of clocks and windows here, but he had only drifted for a moment.

Upward and onward. But first:

He took a small piece of paper and put it under his tongue.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the ninety-ninth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundredth floor. Was he really forced to attribute his success to mind-altering drugs? Is that what his life had come down to? Maybe even he was hallucinating all this insanity. Maybe this was all a fantasy, a fantasy adventure, that he wouldn't even be having if he hadn't taken what he had in the first place.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-first floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-second floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-third floor. No, he felt at this point that he was living a realer reality now. He just had to believe that.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-fourth floor. He could tell it wouldn't last much longer anyway. His mind was being put under great pressure to perform at max power, with a quickness and depth and even (dare he say, certain clairvoyance?) that wasn't normal. It couldn't last. Once this was all over, he'd have to stop.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-fifth floor. Stop taking the drug.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-sixth floor. And what would happen to his brain, once suddenly deflated?

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-seventh floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-eighth floor. The pressure had to be removed sooner or later. So whatever would follow that would have to happen. Better sooner.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-ninth floor. Than later.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-tenth floor. But for today, he still needed it. To deal with everything. To remember Saynt Zero.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-eleventh floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-twelfth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-thirteenth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-fourteenth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-fifteenth floor. The psychologist Carl Jung was somewhat more optimistic than Freud, at least when it came to inner guidance.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-sixteenth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-seventeenth floor. He's popular with artists and storytellers. His ideas, such as those regarding the "archetypes" and the "collective unconscious" suggest the universality of stories, and their existence as guidemaps for sentientkind. That people throughout history have used stories to understand their own lives. Stories to understand existence. Stories to stay sane, by creating meaning out of the churning vortex we call existence.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-eighteenth floor. The best stories, the one that resonate most deeply with sentients, often become religions.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-nineteenth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-twentieth floor. At least, in the past. The advance of science removed many people's trust in religious faith. Beyond outright proving most religions inaccurate, science had proved so useful in saving lives and advancing the possibilities and hopes of sentientkind that religion itself didn't even seem to have a good purpose anymore.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-twenty-first floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-twenty-second floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-twenty-third floor. But then, something happened. Or maybe it was continually happening, but it just became more obvious.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-twenty-fourth floor. People were becoming increasingly neurotic. Physically, life was better than ever, but mentally, people were beginning to erode.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-twenty-fifth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-twenty-sixth floor. Regardless of the "truth" of any of the religious systems, they provided definite outlines of existence for people. Definite systems. Definite roadmaps. Definite sources of eternal law: THIS is why you definitely shouldn't kill people. THIS is why you shouldn't steal.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-twenty-seventh floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-twenty-eighth floor. We sentients would like to think we've moved past needing a cosmic father (or mother) to stand by as warning against cruel behavior, but even underneath the morality and ethics of the modern secular laws are the original standards set up by the religions of old.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-twenty-ninth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-thirtieth floor. Despite the Renaissance and the Scientific Revolution, almost all of the most intelligent philosophers of the last three hundred years were still using arguments and ideas rooted in a Starist background.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-thirty-first floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-thirty-second floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-thirty-third floor. What was the conclusion here, in Lumen's opinion? That society was forever tied to the beliefs of the past?

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-thirty-fourth floor. Not necessarily. Not exactly.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-thirty-fifth floor. And Kali, for instance, would argue for an economic equality as the roadmap to a better world.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-thirty-sixth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-thirty-seventh floor. His legs were not this strong. And the slips of paper he had been slipping under his tongue could not account for it either. There was something strange going on. Something else strange, than what had already been recognized as strange (as mostly everything here).

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-thirty-eighth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-thirty-ninth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-fortieth floor. Ah.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-forty-first floor. Ah!

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-forty-second floor. What the…?

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-forty-third floor. These stairs…

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-forty-fourth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-forty-fifth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-forty-sixth floor. They were an escalator.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-forty-seventh floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-forty-eighth floor. A large spiraling escalator, upwards.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-forty-ninth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-fiftieth floor. Can you believe that?

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-fifty-first floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-fifty-second floor. This military base had escalator stairs.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-fifty-third floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-fifty-fourth floor. That didn't seem possible. But then, how could Lumen have made it all the way up here?

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-fifty-fifth floor. Checkmate, asthdkakdfliests.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-fifty-sixth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-fifty-seventh floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-fifty-eighth floor. Even if religion faded away in the respects of most people, could plainer stories take their place? People were still using stories to guide their lives, whether they knew it or not.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-fifty-ninth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-sixtieth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-sixty-first floor. Was that what Lumen had been attempting with his movies? Without realizing it?

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-sixty-second floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-sixty-third floor. Maybe that had always been the secret value of art. To create beauty, sure— but also as the door to a continuous source of the universal Mystery.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-sixty-fourth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-sixty-fifth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-sixty-sixth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-sixty-seventh floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-sixty-eighth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-sixty-ninth floor. HAW HAW 69

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-seventieth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-seventy-first floor. Or all this thinking were just signs that Lumen was lonely, and the only two things that held power in the universe of sentients was sex and death?

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-seventy-second floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-seventy-third floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-seventy-fourth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-seventy-fifth floor. He couldn't believe that, though.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-seventy-sixth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-seventy-seventh floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-seventy-eighth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-seventy-ninth floor. Not just out of needing to believe in a beautiful existence, but because he himself knew of the almost divine light that existed in movies, in books, in music...

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-eightieth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-eighty-first floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-eighty-second floor. Life was too complicated and beautiful to just be sex and death.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-eighty-third floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-eighty-fourth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-eighty-fifth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-eighty-sixth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-eighty-seventh floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-eighty-eighth floor. Those who believed in just sex and death had never seen a higher light.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-eighty-ninth floor. Or if they had, they had forgotten it.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-ninetieth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-ninety-first floor. That is what Lumen believed.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-ninety-second floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-ninety-third floor. It occurred to him at this point that once he made it to the top floor, he was going to collapse.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-ninety-fourth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-ninety-fifth floor. That might not be good.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-ninety-sixth floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-ninety-seventh floor.

Then, Lumen walked the stairs to the one-hundred-and-ninety-eighth floor. He shakily opened the door and stumbled through.

* * *

 _Found my way upstairs and had a smoke_

 _And somebody spoke and I went into a dream_


End file.
